A/N: Yep, you guessed it. Bad Octopus is back with more M*A*S*H-ness. This time, a series of one-shots inspired by my story, "The Wind and the Rain". Apparently I just can't leave well enough alone. Each of these one-shots will be independent and unrelated to each other, but all will feature both the M*A*S*H cast and my own original characters, and will contain references to my story. But odds are, if you're reading this, you've probably already slogged your way through "The Wind and the Rain". (See what I did there?) Thanks go out to blown-transistor for beta reading. Now, without further ado, let's get started.

Disclaimer: I don't own M*A*S*H. The characters are simply on loan for the time being.

The Art of the Fugue

a series of M*A*S*H vignettes

by Bad Octopus

The Best Man

Hawkeye Pierce was facing a crisis of epic proportions. He wasn't sure how it had happened — how he had allowed himself to make such a disastrous mistake. All he knew for absolute certainty was that if he did not rectify the situation immediately, heads were going to roll. His, to be precise.

He couldn't find his boutonnière anywhere.

He didn't recall setting it down, or what would have possessed him to do so in the first place. He knew he had been wearing it when he had poured himself a cup of coffee in the morning room of the massive, sprawling, obscenely opulent estate that Charles Emerson Winchester the Third called home, sweet home. But that was precious little help, in light of the fact that he couldn't find his coffee cup, either.

It was moments like this that worried Hawkeye. He never used to be so absent-minded, but lately, he had been experiencing bouts of inattention with alarming regularity. More and more frequently, he found himself so absorbed in his thoughts that he gradually became oblivious to his surroundings. As a result, he often forgot what he was doing, or missed snatches of conversation, or rearranged objects without realizing he had done so. It was one of the reasons why he had put his medical practice on hiatus for the time being.

Well, that, and the flashbacks. And the insomnia. And the crippling fear.

Sighing in frustration, he smoothed down his thick salt-and-pepper hair for perhaps the twentieth time. He had to focus on the task at hand. If I were a boutonnière, where would I be? he thought, feeling vaguely ridiculous even as the thought entered his mind.

Navigating through a sea of servants, caterers, and wedding guests, Hawkeye wandered through the enormous mansion, attempting to retrace his steps. He searched his guest room, where he had donned his new tuxedo earlier in the day, as well as the glass-walled conservatory, where he had practiced his speech. But no matter where he looked, he came up empty-handed. He started to suspect that it had been carried off by one of the staff.

He was about to try the morning room again when he spotted a familiar face in the crowd of guests milling around in the large, echoing entrance hall. Quickly, he made his way through the throng until he reached the tall, trim figure of his best friend.

"Hey, Beej," he said, laying his hand on the man's shoulder. "Have you seen my boutonnière?"

B.J. Hunnicutt affected a look of surprised disgust. "Watch your language, Hawk. There are ladies present."

"Come on, I'm serious."

"Since when?"

Hawkeye shot him an impatient glare. "Will you quit kidding around? This is important. If I don't find it, Charles is going to cut me out of his will. I don't know if I'm in it or not, but I'm definitely not taking any chances."

B.J. shrugged with an annoying lack of concern. "I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure the florists made extras. They must plan for this sort of thing to happen." He took in his friend's harried appearance with a raised eyebrow. "Relax, will you? Anyone would think you're the one who was getting married today."

"I know, I know." Hawkeye took a deep breath. "I just don't want to screw up. I mean, this is a big deal. Isn't it?"

"Pretty big." B.J. shook his head in amazement. "I still can't believe Charles asked you to be his best man. I never saw that coming. Did you?"

Hawkeye was about to say no, but something stopped him. Out of all the people he had encountered during his time at the 4077th Mobile Army Surgical Hospital, Major Charles Emerson Winchester had been the slowest to acclimate to his new posting. For months he had resented his commanding officer, had refused to let anyone get close to him, and had more or less loathed his very existence. By his words and actions, the Bostonian surgeon had made it explicitly clear that he was not interested in making friends. Hawkeye had never met a more antisocial person in his life. Not even Frank Burns.

But gradually, and almost against his will, Charles began to warm to the members of his unit. He was never exactly a social butterfly, but he seemed to tolerate the association of a select few, and occasionally even sought them out. But the biggest change in his attitude came with the arrival of a scrappy red-haired little nurse named Fenella Malone.

Frizzy-haired, freckled, and bespectacled, Nellie hadn't made much of an impression on Hawkeye, at least at first. She was quiet and reserved, and seemed more interested in her books than in engaging with the people around her. But with the help of the friends she made, as well as a somewhat stunning makeover, she eventually came out of her shell, and even endeared herself to the camp. And, in particular, to Charles.

To say that their relationship had been smooth sailing would not be an accurate description of events. For all her bookishness, Nellie was surprisingly stubborn when she chose to be, and Charles's arrogance was the stuff of legend. In spite of their differences, however, they each found in the other a kindred spirit. Somehow, Nellie managed to get through Charles's defenses, and was able to bring out a side in him that Hawkeye had only glimpsed a few times before. He was still an insufferable windbag, of course, but there was a slight softening. Improbable as it was, he seemed content, even happy. As for Nellie, she preferred the major's company over that of anyone else in the camp, including Maxwell Klinger, the cheerful company clerk whom she had briefly dated, and of whom she was still immensely fond. Perhaps it was inevitable, then, that they fell in love.

Unfortunately for both of them, Charles was an idiot. Because Nellie was the daughter of an Irish factory worker and not a high-born aristocrat, he had convinced himself that his parents would never approve of the match. As it turned out, his fears were completely groundless, but in his mind, he had already lost her. So instead of telling her the truth, he decided the only course of action was to push her away. As confused as she was hurt, Nellie grew more despondent every day, her misery compounded by the fact that her kid brother Danny, whom she had gone to Korea to be near, was temporarily declared missing in action. And so Hawkeye watched as the two suffered in silence, both too proud to tell the other of their true feelings.

In the end, it had taken an aerial strike which had nearly cost Nellie her leg — and her life — for Charles to realize that she meant more to him than the wrath of his family. To the delight of Hawkeye and everyone else who was rooting for them, he finally came clean and confessed his love, which was wholeheartedly returned. But their new-found bliss was short-lived; Nellie's injury, which had left her with partial paralysis of her left leg and foot, had earned her a one-way ticket back to the States.

At first Charles had been devastated; in fact, it would not have been a stretch to say that he'd been a walking Greek tragedy. But they maintained their long-distance romance, and as soon as the war ended and Charles was once again reunited with 'his Malone', he wasted no time in proposing to her. After all, they had waited long enough.

When Hawkeye had answered the telephone call in his home in Crabapple Cove, Maine, and heard Charles's familiar upper-class Boston Brahmins drawl, asking in an amusingly formal, stilted tone if he would consent to being his best man, Hawkeye was less surprised than he should have been. But the fact was that during the few months leading up to the signing of the peace treaty, he and Charles had become rather close — closer than he would have thought was possible. Hawkeye had always known that there was more to the man than the uptown snob that he portrayed himself as most of the time, but recently he had noticed a subtle shift. He had opened up to Hawkeye on more than one occasion, had had serious conversations with him, and even shared details about his life which he usually kept private. Hawkeye wasn't certain whether it was time that had changed him, or if it was due to the influence of his wife-to-be, but somewhere along the way, Charles had become very important to him. But he hadn't been sure if Charles felt the same way. Until now.

Suddenly he was literally shaken out of his thoughts as he was jostled from behind by another wedding guest. He tried to recall what B.J. had asked him.

"Sorry, what'd you say?" he asked, annoyed with himself for allowing his mind to wander yet again.

"Charles. Asking you to be his best man. I never saw it coming, did you?"

"Oh, yeah." Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know, I guess he figured someone had to do it. I'm just as good as anybody else."

"I suppose."

He raised an eyebrow at his friend. "You're not jealous, are you?" he asked with a teasing smile.

B.J. waved his hand dismissively. "No, no, of course not. I think it's great. Just... surprising."

"Yeah, well..." Hawkeye smoothed his lapels with an air of great formality. "It's no use trying to understand Charles. What matters is that I got a brand new tux out of the deal."

"You really do have a grasp of the important things," B.J. remarked with a grin.

At that moment, Hawkeye saw a tall, statuesque, dark-haired figure in a stunning violet bridesmaid's dress striding toward them on long legs. His breath hitched slightly as Honoria Winchester graced him with a sunny smile.

"Dr. Pierce," she said as she approached them, "your button-hole is looking rather lonely. Misplace something?"

Hawkeye exhaled in pure relief as she held up his missing boutonnière — a late-blooming iris which matched the hue of her dress perfectly. "There it is! Where'd you find it?"

He attempted to take it from her, but she slapped his hand away. "It was on the credenza in the upstairs hallway," she replied, affixing the flower to his lapel. "Along with an ice-cold cup of coffee."

Charles's younger sister spoke with a slight stutter when pronouncing certain consonants, but the impediment in no way diminished her effortless charm. In truth, Hawkeye barely noticed it anymore. "Thank you," he told her sincerely. "I am eternally grateful."

"You're very welcome, Dr. Pierce," Honoria replied courteously.

"Call me Hawkeye," he said. "Nicknames aren't just for mob bosses, you know."

"Indeed?" She arched an elegant eyebrow. "In that case, call me Honey."

Hawkeye regarded her with some surprise. "Really?" he purred, flashing her his most suave smile.

"Of course not, don't be ridiculous." Hawkeye's face fell, making Honoria laugh in delight. "We're just about to begin," she said, patting him on the arm. "I suggest you gentlemen take your respective places."

He watched her until she melted into the crowd. Then he turned to find B.J. watching him in undisguised amusement.

"She's cute," he observed in a deceptively guileless tone.

"She's Charles's baby sister," said Hawkeye firmly.

"Uh-huh," he said wryly. Damn that B.J., he knew him too well.

Keeping an eye out for possible eavesdroppers, Hawkeye leaned in close and lowered his voice. "Look, what do you want me to say? That she's funny, smart, and devastatingly gorgeous? That I've never met anyone like her? And that when I did meet her, I had a vision of myself pushing her on a swing in a rose garden, while bluebirds whistled 'Ah, Sweet Mystery of Life' overhead? Oh, you'd just love it if I said all those things, wouldn't you?"

"Are they true?" B.J. asked seriously.

"I..." He sighed in resignation. "It doesn't matter. She's Charles's baby sister. Which automatically elevates her to the status of untouchable."

B.J. smiled, in that infuriatingly understanding, sympathetic way that he always smiled. "If you say so, Hawk," he said kindly. He gave him a stinging slap on the back, nearly knocking his boutonnière loose. "But I think she likes you."

Hawkeye waved a fist at him, but he simply laughed and sauntered away. Typical.

Shaking his head, Hawkeye made his way to the great hall, where the wedding ceremony would shortly be taking place. Most of the guests were already seated; among the sea of unfamiliar faces, he was able to spot Sherman Potter, sitting between his wife Mildred and Walter-formerly-Radar O'Reilly. Even Margaret Houlihan, who had adamantly proclaimed she wouldn't be able to attend, had arrived at the last minute and found a seat near the back. The only guest that was conspicuously absent was Max Klinger, who was still in Korea with his wife. But he had sent the bride his best string of pearls.

As Hawkeye took his place next to the altar, he beamed up at Father Francis Mulcahy, who was officiating over the wedding. He felt a pang as he saw the bulky hearing aid device in the former Army chaplain's ear. It was an aching reminder of what the war had cost all of them. Not even the nice guys escaped unscathed.

He looked over at Charles, who was already standing by the altar, looking shiny and immaculate and unusually at ease. If it hadn't been for the tuxedo he was wearing, he might have been waiting for a bus.

Hawkeye stepped closer to him. "Nervous?" he asked in a low voice.

"Not at all," Charles replied in his usual unruffled manner. "Why on earth should I be?"

Hawkeye chuckled. "Most men find the prospect of settling down with one woman for the rest of their lives to be a little... scary."

The Bostonian snorted. "Come off it, Pierce. Not all men share your fatal allergy to commitment."

"Thanks."

Charles's lips twitched in a brief smile. "This may come as something of a surprise to you, but as much as I enjoy solitude now and then, I find Malone's company to be even more charming than my own." Hawkeye laughed; some things never changed. "No, I have no qualms about sharing my life with her," he continued in a softer tone. "On the contrary, I look forward to the coming years with keen anticipation."

Hawkeye smiled. "She's quite a catch." He clapped a hand on the taller man's shoulder. "I'm happy for you, Charles. I really am."

"Thank you, Hawkeye," he said simply.

The music began, and the bridesmaids and groomsmen began their procession down the aisle. B.J. and Honoria came first, followed by Kealani Kellye and one of Charles's relatives. Finally came the flower girl, B.J.'s young daughter Erin, scattering petals with a look of intense concentration on her face and earning chuckles from the onlookers.

And then the Wedding March began to play, and the bride came into view. On the arm of her brother Danny, Nellie Malone approached the altar, the long, full skirt of her gown concealing her limp as she nearly floated down the aisle, holding a bouquet of irises. More irises were weaved into her copper hair. Around her neck were Klinger's pearls, and an enormous, crooked smile was on her freckled face. She was, in a word, radiant.

Hawkeye looked over at Charles. He seemed to have stopped breathing altogether, and tears were swimming in his eyes. But there was a smile on his face that, until now, he had always reserved solely for Mozart.

As Nellie handed her bouquet to Kellye and took her place at Charles's side, Hawkeye thought back to the circumstances that had brought the pair together. How different they had seemed.

A brilliant blue-blooded doctor from Boston, consigned to exile in Korea following a disastrous game of cribbage.

A sweet, bookish nurse with an unexpected courageous streak and a compulsive need to protect her little brother from the ravages of war.

Hawkeye smiled, blinking back tears of his own.

Who knew that a chance meeting in Hell would produce a match made in Heaven?

A/N: Some of my readers expressed a desire for more details about the wedding, so that's where I started. Hope you enjoyed it. More to come. :)

-Octopus