Title: The Best of All Possible Worlds
Rating: T – eventually a bit M-ish
Summary: There's yet another new nurse, and yes, she's got issues. And a thing for Voltaire.
Warning: 1) First few pages are boring, I know, but I promise Beej and Hawk appear eventually. 2) There will be gratuitous Radar lust at a later point, because let's face it, the boy doesn't get enough action. (It helps if you imagine him as a real 19-year-old boy, not a 30-year-old actor, not that I don't adore Gary Burghoff.) 3) I usually try to aim above the cliché, but the 'Welcome New Nurse' stories are oh-so-fun.
Feedback: All honest comments are welcomed, whether they're flattering, withering or indifferent.

Olive sat primly in the one chair in the clerk's office, which served as an antechamber to Colonel Potter's office. She'd spent the last five minutes alternately spinning her hat around in her hands and tugging at the lapels of her jacket. In all honesty she liked her dress uniform; it was the same color as her hair, and made her feel like it was easier to blend into the background and not be noticed. Or at least it had on the trip from Tokyo to her new M.A.S.H. unit with a new anesthesiologist and another nurse. But here in this sea of so many shades of drab green, she felt like she was some sort of curiosity, as out of place as was possible.

She paused in her fidgeting to pull her fingers through her hair, a nervous attempt to neaten herself up, but the jeep ride had done little to tame her mess of curls, short though they were. Giving up on first impressions, she situated her hat firmly back on her head, and was left with nothing to do but pull on her jacket again.

A furtive glance at her watch showed that she'd been sitting there five minutes and thirty-seven seconds. She couldn't imagine what the colonel was saying to Second Lieutenant Stiggins, the anesthesiologist, and she was dreading her own interview more and more with each passing second.

Olive glanced around the room once again, pulling on her fingers to keep herself occupied so she'd forget to be quite so nervous. Still the same cot, wall of filing cabinets and pigeonholes, small neat desk, and heavily occupied corporal. He hadn't raised his eyes since dropping them after his short introduction as he brought her and Stiggins in from their arriving jeep. The other nurse, an older, chatty woman who'd introduced herself only as Janet, had evidently been reassigned to the 4077th after a brief stint at another hospital. As soon as the car had stopped, she'd bounded off into the camp to find a Major Houlihan and to reclaim her old bunk.

Another look at her watch. Almost six and a half minutes now. The corporal got up and reached into a filing cabinet before settling back down at his desk. He pushed his smudged glasses closer to his face and began typing. Olive found the big toe inside her right shoe tapping to the rhythm of his typing as she moved from pulling on her lapels to cleaning her own army-issue spectacles on the hem of her skirt. When the bell dinged on the typewriter for the third time, the corporal jumped up, grabbed a file off his desk and turned to her. She hastily pushed her glasses back on as she stood. "It'll be just a second," he said. Before she even had a chance to nod, a voice called, "Radar!" from the inner office.

The corporal pushed the door open, and Olive listened attentively. "Yes sir?"

"Show Lieutenant Stiggins to his tent and bring the new nurse in, this—" Radar stepped inside to hand Colonel Potter the file he'd snatched from his desk. "Lieutenant Grey."

"Will do, sir. You can come with me sir." Radar stepped out into his own office, followed by Stiggins. "You can go in now, ma'am."

Wide-eyed, Olive stood and glanced up at Stiggins, who smiled warmly at her with a little nod towards the colonel's office. It couldn't have been too terrible. "See you round, Lieutenant," he perked as he and the corporal headed outside.

She nodded to herself and with one last tug at her jacket, she strode with what she hoped looked like confidence into the office, and paused in front of the desk of what appeared to be a perfectly rational, perfectly friendly man in a casual army uniform. A blush rose to her face quickly as she realized she was probably meant to salute him, and she did so, awkwardly, with a quiet, "Sir."

"At ease, soldier," he smiled. "Welcome to the 4077th. Have a seat."

"Thank you, sir," she nodded and perched in the same stiff way she had outside, watching as he opened her file. He put on a pair of reading glasses and glanced over the few sheets the folder contained before speaking again.

"First Lieutenant Olive Grey," he mused. "You've got a name that was made for the army, haven't you?"

"Yes sir, so it would seem."

"Military family?"

"In a way, sir. My grandfather was an army medic in England in World War I, sir, and my father used to design weapons for the armed services."

"One generation helps take the soldiers apart, the next generation helps put them back together, that how it works?"

"Well my older brother's a surgeon, a captain now, here in Korea. But my younger brother and I, we signed up together the day after his eighteenth birthday, sir, he's a soldier, regular army."

"So I suppose that answers the question, 'What's a fine young girl like yourself doing in a lousy pit like this?' It's in the genes?"

"So it would seem, sir. Apart from that recessive taking-soldiers-apart gene."

"Well I'm glad you're on our side of things, Olive," Colonel Potter smiled. She felt her blood pressure lowering. At least her commanding officer seemed pleasant enough. "This your first M.A.S.H. unit?"

"Yes sir." She pulled on her lapels again.

"Straight out of training, huh?"

"Yes sir."

"Right out of school?"

"Top of my class at UCLA, sir. I've done a lot of work at the medical center there since finishing school."

He nodded to himself and stood up, walking to the edge of his desk which he leaned on and looked at Olive with an expression she didn't quite understand.

"Then I've got some good news and some bad news. The good news is this is a great camp with the best damn doctors and nurses and just plain people I've ever worked with, and I think you're going to fit in just fine."

"Thank you, sir. But the bad news?" she prompted.

"The bad news is, this is one hell of a place for a kid like you to get an education." He looked down at her as she fiddled with the last button of her jacket. She looked up with doe eyes as he paused. "We're not five miles from the shooting, we get a lot of banged up soldiers, some of them are even younger than you. You're what, twenty-two?"

"Twenty-three, sir."

"Last week we had an eleven hour surgery shift where I had a nineteen-year-old soldier come through with so much metal in him it looked like he'd eaten a jeep. One soldier'd lost his whole leg to a shell blast, was in such bad shock he didn't know he'd been hit. Another had a hole in his gut you could put your fist in. We lost him." He paused for a moment and moved back to his chair behind the desk. "I don't want to scare you, Lieutenant, but I think you might want to know what you're up against here. This is as far away from textbook medicine as you're ever likely to find. The OR here can suck the life out of a person, and I don't think you've lived enough to let a hellhole like this suck you dry."

"I've done a bit of living, sir," she said, trying to sound more sure of herself than she felt.

"I'm sure you have." He gave her a watery smile. "Now if you ever need anything, I try to be around for my staff, and there's always the rest of the crew, there's not a one of them that wouldn't help out a friend in need. Well, Winchester is a last resort," he amended. "Our Major Houlihan is a great gal, your Chief Nurse. As long as you don't get on her bad side, she's a real peach. Problem is her bad side's about a mile wide."

Olive nodded.

"Well, you look like you could use some rest. Dinner'll be served in about an hour, but I warn you, the food's almost as palatable as the surgery around here. I'll get the major to show you to your tent and help you get settled."

"Thank you sir."

"Radar," Colonel Potter called.

The corporal opened the door. "Major Houlihan's here, sir."

"Thank you, son," he nodded and stood as a stern looking blonde came into the office. Olive hurriedly stood and saluted her as Radar disappeared back into his office. "Major Houlihan, meet your new nurse, Lieutenant Grey."

Olive didn't miss the look of disappointment that flitted over the major's face. "Let's get you settled, Lieutenant," Major Houlihan said. "I expect you to be ready to work in the morning."

"Of course sir. Ma'am!" she corrected herself hastily.

The major scowled at her. "Will that be all, Colonel?"

"Just show the girl around, make her feel welcome."

"Of course, sir. Follow me." And with that Olive found herself scurrying after the major and dodging mud puddles in her heels while trying to get a feel for the layout of the camp. The major was pointing out various places of interest, such as the chaplain's tent, the mess tent, the supply tent, the nurses' latrine and shower, and Olive knew that in five minutes she'd be hopelessly lost in the maze of army green canvas and camouflage. Just as the major was pointing out her own tent and explaining explicitly how she didn't want to be disturbed except in the direst of emergencies, a tall blond man ambled up to them.

"New nurse, Margaret, or are you babysitting?" he quipped.

"And this, Lieutenant, is one of the doctors I planned to warn you about."

"My reputation precedes me I see," he bowed. "I'm BJ, nice to meet you."

"Olive," she said quietly and shook his proffered hand.

"Captain Hunnicut is one of our surgeons," Major Houlihan announced, "and one of our chief troublemakers. This is Lieutenant Grey, and I would appreciate it if you and Pierce would refrain from corrupting her."

"Wouldn't dream of it. We'll let the army do that instead."

Margaret let out a huff and stomped away. "I'll show you to your tent now, Lieutenant."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Olive managed to peep over her shoulder as she followed. She slipped briefly in the mud but quickly regained her feet and caught up with the major as BJ shook his head and made his way to the Swamp.

"I want you to stay away from Pierce and Hunnicut as much as you can. Out of all the despicable men in this camp, those two are the worst. No discipline at all, everything's a joke to them. And Klinger, he's always up to some stunt trying to get discharged. You're probably at least two sizes smaller than him, but if you find any of your stockings or dresses missing, he's almost certainly to blame."

"I'm sorry?"

"And fraternization with any of the male staff is of course frowned upon in the most serious manner, and will not be tolerated."

"Of course."

"Here is your tent," she announced, opening the door and stepping inside. Olive followed. It was more homey than she'd expected: There were two bunk beds, four lamps, and a stove heater at the far end of the room. The lower bunk nearest the door was neatly made, makeshift shelves over the bed head, and a small table at the end, her footlocker and bags placed alongside on the floor. The rest of the tent was filled with books and photos and clothes and hair curlers. A woman sat cross-legged on the top bunk on the other side of the room, and Olive smiled at her nervously. "Olive, this is Ginger Bayliss. You'll also be bunking with Lydia McCreely, who's on duty right now. I'll leave you to get settled, and after dinner I'll show you around the hospital."

"Thank you, ma'am," Olive nodded, and the major left.

"Don't let her scare you too much," Ginger perked, sliding off her bunk to shake Olive's hand. "Her bark's worse than her bite. She likes to think she's in charge."

"She's not?"

"Only a little bit. Need any help unpacking?"

"No, I think I've got it, thanks." Olive sat carefully on her bunk, and winced as it squeaked.

"So where you from?"

"Los Angeles."

"Really? Wow," Ginger breathed as Olive opened her trunk.

"Well sorta. I grew up in Santa Paula, that's a little ranching suburb up the coast. But I went to school at UCLA. It's not as interesting as you think. LA I mean."

"It's gotta be better than Chicago."

"That where you're from?" Olive glanced around and decided to arrange her books on her meager shelves.

"Yeah. I mean I miss it like crazy, but I think I'd miss LA more."

"My grandparents live in Chicago. I like it there."

"Next time you visit your grandparents after the war, you'll have to visit me too," Ginger smiled. "Then you can take me back to LA with you, show me the sights."

"That sounds like fun," Olive grinned.

"I've always wanted to put my hands in Cary Grant's handprints at the Chinese Theater."

"I can almost fit both my feet into one of Gary Cooper's footprints."

Ginger laughed heartily. "Is the Hollywood sign really as neat as it seems?"

"I dunno," Olive shrugged. "I don't really notice it anymore." She finished with her books and reached into her footlocker. "You're making me homesick already," she smiled, pulling out a picture frame.

"Gee I'm sorry Olive. Is that what I should call you? Olive?"

"Sure. Or Liv. That's what my brothers call me."

"Is that them?" Ginger asked, moving over to sit next to her on her bunk and looking at the photograph she was holding. Olive and three other boys and what looked like their parents.

"Yeah. At our high school graduation a few years back. Me and Ash, the other one with glasses. Twins. He's still at UCLA doing his med school. The other two, David and Tim, they're here in Korea too."

"You're a cute family."

"Thanks." Olive put the photo on one of the beams over her bed head. "You have a picture of your family?"

"Oh yeah." Ginger jumped up and grabbed two frames which she handed to Olive. "That's Mom and Pop and my kid brother Jake. He thinks he's a writer, drives Pop crazy, but he's a good kid. And this is Troy." In the other frame was a photo of a very handsome man in a suit outside a house. "My boy back home." Olive looked up at Ginger as she looked at the photo lovingly.

"I bet you miss him a lot."

"I do. But, y'know, there's a lot of men around here who are good for keeping your mind off things like that."

"Oh," Olive blushed.

"Don't you have a boy back home?"

"Me? Oh no, I'm not good at, well, boys."

"Girls?" Ginger asked gently.

"No," Olive said with a chuckle, "I like boys. It's the going out that I'm not very good at."

"Well look Liv, there's five men to every one woman around here, and you're a cute girl, I'm sure you'll get better at boys and quick."

"But Major Houlihan said—"

"Oh don't listen to her, she's had her fair share of men here in Korea."

"Oh," Olive said, not sure what to think.

"Come on, I'll introduce you to the showers before we head to dinner."


"I think this cottage cheese has gone bad," Hawkeye announced, sitting down at a table with his dinner tray.

"That's because it's mashed potatoes," BJ corrected.

"If that's the potatoes, what's this?" he asked, poking at a mound of white something or other.

"I think that's the cauliflower."

Hawkeye tossed his fork down on his tray in disgust. "I refuse to eat this," he gasped. "It's been steamed within an inch of its life. I'll protest against cruelty to vegetables."

"Forget the vegetables, what about cruelty to us," BJ countered.

"I'm about ready to organize a hunger strike against our hunger."

"Would you ruffians please control yourselves," Major Winchester groused from the next table, "I'm trying to eat."

"Are you sure you want to do that, Charles?" BJ asked. "It's not good for you."

"I make it a general rule not to eat what I can't identify," Hawkeye said. As he was trying halfheartedly to identify the main course, he glanced up to see a familiar face waving at him from the chow line. "Hey, Janet's back," he perked.

"Replacement for the two nurses Margaret scared away last week," BJ said as he glanced around the mess tent for Olive. "We got a bright eyed and bushy tailed new recruit too, Hot Lips is already working on breaking her spirit."

"Is that who that little girl was I saw come in with Ginger? I thought someone had arranged a play date for Radar."

"Uh-oh, looks like playtime's over," BJ said as he watched Margaret drag the timid woman outside.

"That's our new nurse?" Charles groaned, watching them leave.

"No Charles, she's a cheerleader for the war," BJ countered. "New program to improve morale. Wait 'til you see her army drab pompoms."

"She's hardly out of grade school."

"Radar wasn't even toilet trained when he got here, and he turned out alright," Hawkeye shrugged as Radar wandered by with a tray filled to overflowing with what the cook called dinner.

"That's not funny," he grumbled.

"Hey Radar, what do you know about the new blood?" Hawkeye asked.

"First Lieutenant Olive Grey, just graduated from UCLA, twenty-three, comes from a family of army doctors."

"She's not in any way related to Captain Timothy Grey out of the 3055th, is she?" Charles gasped.

"One of her brothers is an army surgeon," Radar shrugged as he tucked into his white mush. Hawkeye winced at him, half in disgust, half in amazement that he could actually consume such gunk.

"Well then, I retract all my initial misgivings about our young charge," Charles beamed.

"You're a very shallow man, Charles," BJ chastised.

"Shallow!"

"As a koi pond. I blame the aristocratic inbreeding," Hawkeye said.

"Insubordinate ingrates," he muttered as he stood to leave with a huff.

"Pretentious alliteration, that's a telltale sign of a shallow gene pool."

"Pretentious whats-its?"

"Never mind Radar, eat your cauliflower."

"It's potatoes."

"If you say so."