"Get her prepped, I'm going to scrub," ordered Potter. Hawkeye sat on the table next to Margaret, a haunting concern in his face as he watched her ragged breathing. As Charles carefully cut away her sleeve, she turned a weak smile, so unlike her, towards the captain. He slipped off the table and limped over to her, kneeling beside her so his face was level with hers. As she looked at his anxious blue eyes she noticed one was nearly swollen shut and a huge purple bruise spread across his cheek, and dried blood ran from his mouth. But all he could think of was her.

"Margaret, it's going to be okay, don't worry," he was saying, his calm voice cracking a little. "It's just shrapnel, we deal with this all the time. You trust the Colonel, and all of us here! Please, believe it will be all right…"

"Of course I do," said Margaret, rolling her eyes a little. "I do know a little about surgery, you know."

"Certainly, of course," went on Hawkeye, shaking his head a little. "But - "

"Pierce, I think the woman knows what she is talking about," said Charles lightly, finishing what he was doing and nodding at the corpsman. Hawkeye followed the gurney as they headed off towards the OR, still talking non-stop to the major. She smiled and closed her eyes. God, what an idiot he was acting, but such a sweet one…

Winchester caught Hawkeye's arm as he was about to go in, and he hissed in pain before halting.

"What's up?"

"Not sterile, Pierce!" laughed the major. "And I need to look at you now. Where's BJ?"

BJ curled up on his cot as he stared at the photograph in its silver frame, until tears started to blur his vision. What if he had died, and never seen them again? His poor little baby daughter, and his beautiful wife, what would they do? The horrors of the day started to break through the doctor, and his shoulders started to shake. Never had he looked death in the face like that before. Those North Koreans were using him as a hostage, to make sure that they would not be harmed by their enemies. They made it very clear to the Southerners that any closer, and they would shoot their captive. Forced to his knees and with a gun pressed into his temple, BJ had seen the allied Koreans press forward determinedly. Only the guns of the allies and his own quick reflexes had saved him, throwing himself to the floor as gunfire rattled around him. Death had come so close, and he couldn't even feel brave about it. What kind of a man was he? Suddenly his private musings were broken by the Swamp door creaking open gently. Father Mulcahy removed his hat and smiled at BJ quietly.

"May I come in, BJ?"

The captain waved a hand, hastily trying to clear up his frame of mind. "No problem, Father."

The priest came in and sat on the end of BJ's bunk.

"I wondered if you would like to come and help clear up Hawkeye, so that Charles could help with Major Houlihan's surgery. Or we could just talk, if you wanted."

BJ suddenly felt awful – here he was feeling sorry for himself, and his friends needed his help. He rubbed the back of his hand over his eyes.

"I'm fine, Father. Sure I'll come."

The good father's eyes flickered towards the tear-blotched photograph that BJ was setting back on his bedside table.

"That would be nice, BJ. Klinger told me some gabbled story about today; he's a little shaken up. But you were at surgery this morning, weren't you? Would you prefer to sleep now?"

BJ laughed shortly. "This morning seems a thousand years ago now, Father. No, I can help out now, I want to."

"Well maybe you can talk to me as we go, or later," persisted Father Mulcahy, getting up as Hunnicutt did. BJ stopped and looked back at him.

"Th – thank you, Father," he said simply. "I'd like that."

Hawkeye bit back a yelp as Charles gently lifted his two last fingers.

"That hurts like hell," he said between clenched teeth.
"Ah. Wiggle them a bit? Right. It appears, Pierce, that you've broken those two fingers."

"I didn't break them, it was the North Koreans," objected Hawkeye, a little white-faced.

"Well, I'll have to strap them up. And restitch your head, and strap that sprained ankle too. Goodness, Pierce, when you get into a mess, you don't half do it over the top."

"All part of the essential Hawkeye, you know that," returned the captain with a grin, before wincing as Charles began to deal with his fingers. A little while later, BJ quietly opened the door, with Father Mulcahy following him.

"Hey, Beej! You okay?" said Hawkeye, smiling at his friend. BJ nodded and then came over to stand behind Winchester.

"Look, Charles, do you want to go and check how it's going in the OR? I can deal with Hawkeye," he said, glancing over to the door of the theatre.

"If you want," said Charles, getting to his feet and fishing for a mask in his pocket, before heading through the double doors. Hawkeye craned his neck to try and see through there, and BJ put a gentle hand on his friends shoulder.

"Look, Hawk, she'll be fine, okay?"

"I guess…" said Hawkeye, unconvinced. BJ smiled gently at the feelings showing so plainly on his friend's face, and started getting on with it.

Colonel Potter carefully withdrew a splinter of stone from the arm of the patient, and put it in the dish at the side.

"I think that's it, can you see any more?" he asked the hovering Charles.

"Not from here. I think you got it all," said Charles, eyes narrowed as he stared at the wound. Satisfied, he looked over at the anaesthetist. "How's she doing?"

"90 over 60, pulse steady," was the reply. Potter nodded.

"I think we're ready to close. And I'll do it myself," he warned Kellye, who silently complied and swapped his instrument for a needle. Charles walked outside and pulled off his mask. Hawkeye in the corner shot to his feet, nearly kicking BJ in the face as his ankle was being bandaged.

"How – ow! – is she doing, Charles?" asked Hawkeye, putting out his good hand to steady himself on BJ's shoulder. Charles looked a little oddly at the captain, who wasn't being circumspect about his tone of voice.

"She'll be just fine, Pierce," he said, puzzled slightly. "But then what did you expect?"

"Oh, I don't know," said Hawkeye lamely before sitting back down slowly. "When will she be out?"

"You'll see her when they bring her into Post-Op," said BJ firmly, sticking a safety pin into the ankle bandage. "Because that's where you're going."

"Do I live in that place?" complained Hawkeye. "Because I seem to be spending an inordinate amount of time there!"

"There is a war on, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Gee, nothing gets past you, Beej."

Late that night BJ sat up, emitting a startled but terrified cry. Charles blinked sleepy eyed and sat up too. BJ was sitting with his head on his knees, trying to calm his trembling.

"Hunnicutt? BJ?"

"Huh? Charles?"

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah. Just a bad dream."

BJ turned back over, but decided to get up and walk around a bit, to diminish the memories howling around his head.

"Just going to get a drink," he mumbled, staggering to the door. Maybe he would go and check in on Margaret, and Hawk.

Hawkeye suddenly came awake, his thoughts tangled and a thread of fear running throughout. Guns! But wait, Margaret and he were alive, that shot hadn't got her and Beej… Margaret! How was she? He lay still a little longer, then saw that Baker, on duty that night, had been writing a letter under the little lamp at the other end, and had slid out with it in her hand, presumably to post it He carefully swung his aching body off the bed and started limping as quietly as possible over to the other side of the room. There, was that the major over there? Gently he slid on to the chair beside her. She seemed to be asleep; he reached out and touched her hair, as if reassuring himself. The major turned her head a little, her forehead faintly wrinkled in a frown, and muttered something unintelligible. Hawkeye put out his hand to her forehead, trailed his finger down her cheek. He sat there a little while longer, just staring at her. It was no good; he could never tell her, but he must. Soon. Or else he might just go crazy.

Looking up suddenly as Baker came back in, he tried to jump to his feet. The nurse turned and smiled at Hawkeye surprised.

"Hawkeye! You feeling okay? What are you doing up?" she said, walking over to him. He stumbled out into the aisle, trying not to look guilty.

"I'm fine, I was just... checking patients, you know? I guess I'm just a doctor fed up with being invalid."

"Well, invalid, get back to bed. You've got to rest that ankle."

Hawkeye nodded in compliance and sat down on his own bed. As Baker walked back to her desk, checking each patient as she went, Hawkeye cast a long look over at the other bed. Shaking his head he lay back down.

BJ, standing with his hand resting against the outside door, slipped away quietly. It was starting to get cold outside, anyway.

*********************************************************************

"Hello? Hello? That I-Corps? Good! Right, I need some replacement personnel for a while. What? A surgeon. And a nurse too! And – huh? Injured, what did you think? Hon- what? No! A nurse and a surgeon. Pronto! Got that? Right!"

"Masterful, sir."

"Hey, they don't call me a CO for nothin', Klinger. Now, what's the time?"

"Must be 11:00 by now, sir."

"Damn! My shift. Well stay there, you mustn't leave this office except in an emergency. AND LEAVE THAT KNEE ALONE!"

"Sorry sir! Automatic reaction! It's the bandage, see. Can't stand them."

"Well stand it! See you later."

"Wait a second, sir, you didn't sign these casualty reports. And the Purple Heart form."

"Oh, give it here. Purple heart, eh? Well lookit! If you three didn't manage to get one!"

"Three? I thought it was four of us, sir," said Klinger puzzled, peering at the forms upside down.

"Captain Hunnicutt doesn't seem to have one. Of course, he didn't get hurt."

"What! I mean, sir, can't you write down that he was? He went through the worst!"

"The hostage thing? I guess you're right," said the Colonel thoughtfully. "But he wasn't on the casualty list."

"Aw, go on sir, give him a check up or something. See if you can't find something to put down," said Klinger anxiously. He remembered the fear on BJ's face as he had got to his feet, taking the danger on himself instead of his friends, and shuddered.

"You know, you're right, Corporal," said Colonel Potter decisively.

 He put the unsigned forms down and went through to Post-Op, where BJ was sitting on Hawkeye's bed, talking quietly to his friend. He looked up as the Colonel appeared.

"Hey there, Colonel. Come to change shift with me?"

"Not yet. I want to give you a check up."

"Me?"

"That's who I normally mean when I say 'you' to you. Pierce here can do any advice if necessary while we're busy."

"Honestly, Colonel, there's nothing wrong with me…"

"I don't care. Move!"
BJ grumbling got to his feet. Colonel Potter caught his arm as they headed out the door into the sunlight. He narrowed his eyes at BJ's pale face, with dark circles smudged under his eyes.

"Did you sleep last night, Hunnicutt?"

"A little."

"How much little?" demanded Potter.

"About an hour," said BJ reluctantly.

"What! Why?"

"Uh, guess I just couldn't sleep," said BJ lamely. Colonel Potter looked thoughtful. Then he took the unenthusiastic captain by the arm and headed towards the Swamp.

"I'm going to get you that Purple Heart whatever, Hunnicutt, so you can start by owning up anything that hurts."

"Why that?"

"Because you deserve it, dammit! And the other three get it too."

"I don't think Hawkeye will be too impressed."

"To be honest, Hunnicutt, neither do I, but he's getting it anyway. And so are you!"

"Okay, okay…" said BJ, too tired to keep protesting as he normally did. He sat there whilst the Colonel checked him over. BJ hissed softly through his teeth as the CO found a large bruise on the back of his head.

"How did you get that?" asked the Colonel, finding a little thermometer and shaking it.

"Um, when I got thrown from the jeep I guess."

"You were thrown from the jeep??"

"I told you that."

"Next time, speak above a whisper when you say things like that. It's not something to be ashamed of!"

"Yes, Colonel."

That evening the replacement personnel rumbled into camp. The surgeon was a good chap, except he reminded everyone a little of Radar. He was very quiet, and introduced himself shyly as Will Relowski. Everyone hoped they wouldn't have to need him, but in a nice way. More wounded was not what they needed right now. The nurse on the other hand, Lucie Walton, oozed charisma, brown-auburn curls caught prettily to one side and intriguing green eyes. She made friends with everyone, and for some reason just wouldn't leave Charles alone. BJ even joked lightly with Hawkeye about it, that he didn't seem to be interested. Hawkeye just shrugged and laughed a little, saying he was too busy getting better (his face was now a swollen and curious shade of purple in most places) to be getting interested. Or maybe you're interested in someone else, thought BJ to himself.

The following afternoon the call came through for more wounded. The camp groaned; they had space now, but not a lot. Hawkeye sat by Margaret's bed, his own taken up, fretting that he couldn't go in and help. As soon as she had woken up, Hawkeye had entertained her and basically acted as her private doctor, even when Potter came to check on them both. Meanwhile Charles, BJ, Relowski and the Colonel worked steadily through the new casualties.

"More suction, I can hardly see a damn thing," complained BJ as he worked swiftly on a shrapnel-riddled soldier.

"Pressure?" asked the Colonel anxiously. "Right. Can I get another bottle of O over here!" he called. Nurse Walton, unfamiliar with the OR, grabbed for the one nearest the door of the fridge. The condensation made it slippery; it skittered from her grasp and exploded with a noise like a gunshot on the floor.

The OR was silent for a minute; then everyone started talking at once. Walton was falling over herself apologising, starting to clear up with tears standing in her eyes, and Kellye got another to hand to the Colonel. Baker, working with BJ, was startled to see the captain frozen in place, his face suddenly deathly pale.

"Doctor? You alright?"

She put her hand on his arm, and he yelled involuntarily as he jumped backwards.

"Hunnicutt? What the hell?" said Potter, and Charles looked up at the fading terror in BJ's face.

"Close for me," ordered Winchester, gesturing to his nurse and hurrying round to BJ.

"Hunnicutt, why don't you take a little rest for a minute."

"I – I'm sorry," said BJ, white-faced. Father Mulcahy got up from his corner and took the captain by the shoulder.

"BJ, what's up?" he said, sitting the captain down on the bench outside.

"The noise – like those guns," said BJ, shaking his head and trying to calm himself down.

 "Like those – Korean guns?"

"I'm sorry," repeated BJ, putting his head in his bloodstained hands. Father Mulcahy put a comforting arm around the captain, and eventually BJ got to his feet again, taking in a deep breath and smiling at the father.

"I have patients to see to. Thanks, Father." He said, before carefully pushing the doors open again, where everyone bent busily to their tasks.

Colonel Potter stood up behind his desk, surveying the usual faces in front of him. Charles and Father Mulcahy were sitting over to one side; BJ lounged in a chair whilst Klinger perched on a stool behind him, and Margaret, her arm tightly bandaged and in a sling, was sitting over towards the window. Hawkeye sat on the drawers behind her; his face was fading to a yellow-green and his hand was splinted in place.

"Right! I know some of you know why you're here."

"Let me guess. Something about Purple Hearts."

"Hunnicutt! Yes, as it happens it is. And I know you captains aren't too enamoured of it, but you're getting them anyway."

And without much ceremony, the Colonel produced the four black boxes. Charles smiled superciliously, and Father Mulcahy smiled beneficially, and the Colonel just beamed. Margaret saluted with her other hand, happy to receive what she did; Klinger was almost excited. ("Gee, a real medal! Wait 'til I tell the folks back in Toledo!") Hawkeye and BJ had theirs pinned on without much comment, but Hawkeye couldn't help smiling at the Colonel's look of intense concentration as he fiddled with the bars.

"There!" said the Colonel, standing back and saluting them all. "I don't know if I said this all ready, but I'm damn proud of you folks." The four of them looked at each other, and saluted in return.

"Wonderful!" said Charles. "Now, if you bemedalled people would mind, I really must go and wash."

"Not jealous, are we Major?" laughed BJ. "You can have mine if you want."

"You keep yours, Hunnicutt," warned the Colonel, smiling genially. "Now if you folks don't mind, I'm going to check out Sophie. Poor girl's been a little neglected in these busy days…" Charles ducked through the door behind the exiting Potter. Klinger followed grinning.

"Hey Hawk, you should have gotten the Purple Face, not Heart," said BJ, getting to his feet and smiling.

"But it's yellow," objected Margaret.

"Okay, more a kind of green."

"Puce."

"Will you two cut it out?" said Hawkeye exasperatedly.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" protested BJ, narrowly avoiding being swacked on the arm and dancing out of the way through the door. Hawkeye rolled his eyes before holding out his arm to Margaret.

"Walk you to your tent, ma'am?"

"Don't mind if I do, captain," she replied demurely. They left the office, Hawkeye without realising it actually leaning more on Margaret as he limped slightly

*********************************************************************

Hawkeye looked up. "Your door, ma'am, please call our taxi service again!" he said lightly.

"Much obliged," said Margaret, dipping her head regally. The two looked at each other for a moment, then started laughing. Eventually Hawkeye leaned against the wooden slat against the tent, regaining his breath.

"Who would thought, Margaret, that when we first met we wouldn't have even considered laughing with, not at, each other?" he said, his face crinkled in a gentle smile.

"Or saving each other's lives," replied Margaret, more serious suddenly. "Look – uh, Hawkeye – well, come inside a minute," she said, gesturing to her doorway. Hawkeye shrugged and courteously held open the door for her. Once inside Margaret paced a little, then sat on her bed. Hawkeye stood in the middle of the room, a little bemused but a flicker of hope growing inside him. Suddenly the head nurse looked up.

"Hawkeye – I never told you thank you. For standing up for me against the Korean soldiers. Tell me, tell me truthfully Captain… why did you do it?"

The darkhaired surgeon stood quiet a few minutes. Looking down at the major's searching blue eyes, he sat down beside her, trying to formulate what he would say.

"Um. Well, Margaret, normally I would make some kind of diverting comment now. But, but now I think maybe I should be honest with you."

"Do," whispered Margaret back, leaning a little closer.  Looking down at her beautiful face, Hawkeye felt his heart doing something strange. He swallowed and got on with it.

"Because you mean a lot, Margaret. And – and I would do anything for you. I couldn't bear to lose you…"

He struggled with words once again.

"..because if I lost you, I think I would go mad," he finished, looking up at her.

Margaret blushed like a sunrise, and sat still for a minute.

"Hawkeye…"

"Yes?"

"What would you say if… if I told you I felt the same way?"

By now their faces, sharing the same hopeful but uncertain expressions, were almost touching. Hawkeye swallowed. Instead of answering, he leant and gently pressed his lips against hers. The response was electric.

"Then I would be a very happy man," he replied somewhat huskily, withdrawing slightly. Margaret smiled gently and leant forward again, but winced as her bound arm was knocked. Hawkeye leant back and put his hands, one still splinted, on her shoulders.

"Now, Major, the doctor ordered rest for that arm," he said teasingly, trying to cover his emotions. As he bent and started kissing her again, the PA crackled.

"Can Captain Pierce & Major Winchester please report to Post-Op!"

"Damn," said Hawkeye. "Damn."

He slowly got to his feet, rubbing his bruised forehead. Margaret stumbled to her feet also, unwilling to leave it there, so many things still to say. The dark haired captain smiled slightly.

"What say you we finish this… conversation later, Margaret?"

"I guess so," shrugged the head nurse, sick disappointment flickering across her face.

He turned to go, but then stopped, and carefully unpinned his medal.

"Don't forget what I've said," he said softly. "And here's my heart. It was always yours."

Leaving the medal pressed into her palm, he kissed her forehead and slipped out, leaving her standing in the middle of the tent.

Meep, I know there was some more.. but it broke off better here. And yes, I'm taking on board all your comments, and I'm so surprised you like it! x3 thanks! ~Kitty