3

Elizabeth woke up slowly the next morning, vaguely aware of the fact that someone had yelled, "Choppers!", and she groggily pulled her pants and shirt on, shaking her head and clearing it of the cobwebs of sleep as best as she could. She was about to have her first OR session close to the front.

Twelve hours later she was still in the Operating Room, elbow deep in the belly of a young man no more than eighteen years old, attempting to pull out all of the shrapnel that he'd been insulted with.

All of her previous wounded had been simple and to the point, but this one was pushing her skills.

It was called meatball surgery for a reason, and for the first time during those twelve hours, she felt inadequate.

She knew that there were, at the most, three more pieces in there. She had already pulled out more than fifteen pieces and they had varied dramatically in size; the largest one that she'd pulled out so far was the size of a golf ball, the smallest one the size of her fingernail…but she didn't know what to expect from the next few fragments.

Her fingers brushed against one of the pieces and she pulled it out, and then went back in. The second to last piece came out easily as well, but she struggled to find the last piece.

"Dammit," she muttered under her breath. "Where are you?"

"Right here, Major," said Hawkeye, who was one table over. "But I'm more than willing to come over there and make the two of us be in one place," he added, and she didn't even have to look at him to hear the eyebrow raise and leer.

"If I weren't in the process of trying to save this kid's life, Captain, I'm certain that I would have a good retort to that, but as it is, I'm a little bit busy," she groused out, straining her fingers, trying to find where the metal fragment was hiding in the young man's gut. She had to find it in order to make sure that he survived.

She continued to search for nearly five minutes and felt herself reaching a desperation so profound that she was nearly in tears.

The Major bit her tongue, holding her tears back only through sheer stubbornness, determined to not let anyone see her cry on her first time in the OR.

Discreetly, she sniffed, completely unaware of the fact that Father Mulcahy noticed the small sound, as well as the watery glimmer in her eyes that hinted at her true frustration.

"Goddammit," she muttered, yet again. "Where the hell are you?"

Seeing how upset she was, the Father walked over to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, and then said to her, quietly, just for her ears alone, "Just relax, my child. The Lord knows your hands and he knows that you're doing your best."

Her arm dropped slightly at the pressure of his hand on her shoulder, the tension in her neck easing slightly…and her fingers brushed against something solid.

"Father," she whispered, "Don't move your hand."

"What…?"

"Just…trust me on this."

He did as she said, and kept his hand firmly on her shoulder and she used the weight of his hand to guide her fingers around the piece that had been lodged just above his diaphragm, but had also clung slightly to the outer lining of his stomach, which was why she hadn't been able to find it on her previous attempts.

Once she had it firmly in her grip, she gently tugged it loose.

When she pulled it out, she stared it for a moment before dropping it into the pan, where it hit with a soft, metallic plink. Liz let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank the Lord…"

She looked over her shoulder at the Father and added, "And you, Father."

Even though he wore a surgical mask over his face, she could see the smile by how it reached his eyes, and he simply said, "The Lord works in mysterious ways."

He couldn't see her mouth, either, for the same reason, but he, too, could see her smile in the same way that she had seen his, and he gave her a brief nod, and then walked away, heading over to check on the other patients as they were being operated on.

She looked at the Father as he walked away and felt a strength and peace return to her that she hadn't felt in a long time.

It was nice to have a link to the divine again and having it so close and having someone who was more than willing to lend an ear or a shoulder was a blessing to her.

After what she had been through in the past seven years…well, she needed it.

Liz focused once more on the patient and quickly sewed him up, trading a few remarks with BJ and the Colonel as she closed the boy in front of her. Her eyes, though they were focused on the stitching, kept on discreetly glancing in the direction of Father Mulcahy, and she finally made up her mind.

One casualty later, they were finished with their grueling OR session, and she groaned as she sat down on the bench in the washroom, not quite able to believe that she'd been standing for nearly thirteen hours straight.

"If I fall asleep here," she muttered, "Don't move me. It'll be the best rest I've ever had."

The Colonel chuckled at that and as he pulled off his operating room whites he said, "Probably, but your back will hate you for it in a few hours. It's best if you find a bed, trust me on that."

At hearing this, Hawkeye couldn't help but flash her a devilish smile and add, "And my bed's always open, Major."

Liz looked up at him and rolled her eyes, moving to take off her own whites, feeling her stomach growl. She didn't bother to respond to his jab, too worn out to match wits with the surgeon, and as she shed the clothes that were covered with the blood of too many young soldiers, her thoughts wandered back to the Father. She needed to talk to him, and soon, before she lost the resolve that had hardened for her earlier. She didn't know how long it would last.

"If you'll excuse me," she said, raising a hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn, "I am going to go get some food, a shower, and some sleep; preferably in that order."

"Amen to that," replied Captain Hunnicut.

Liz smiled when BJ then offered his arm to her and she gladly took it, leaning into the six-foot-four man as they walked across the compound to the Mess tent, her legs barely working. She was truly tired, and she knew that unless she got some food into her now, it might be hours before she got around to it.

BJ escorted her to a table and then said, "How about I get us both some food? You look dead on your feet."

She grumbled out a reply and he responded with, "I'll take that as a 'Yes, please.'" and went off to the line, grabbing two trays instead of one.

From where she had her head rested on the table on top of her folded arms, she looked around the Mess tent, trying to figure out exactly what time it was…hell, what day it was even. She wasn't sure if she'd entirely bypassed Monday or not. There was a distinct possibility that it could be a Tuesday. It felt like a Tuesday, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was. Tuesdays could fool you, and sometimes they were really Mondays, or even Wednesdays.

She then saw Father Mulcahy enter the tent, his hat slightly askew, and she managed to get up enough energy to wave him over.

"Over here, John…"

Seeing her invitation, he sat down next to her, an amused smile gracing his features.

"Tired, Major?"

She let out an unladylike snort and said, "What was your first clue, John? And please," she added wearily, "Call me Liz."

"Of course, Major," he said, the smile still lingering on his lips, removing his hat with one hand and then gesturing with it. "You certainly look beat."

She nodded, and then slowly lifted her head from her arms and tried to school her expression into one that seemed less zombie-like into one that was more awake. For a brief moment, she wondered if it was even worth the effort, but then BJ approached the two of them, two trays full of food.

"Thank God," she breathed out as he put the tray in front of her.

She took a large, ravenous bite and ignored the identical looks that came from the both of them. Never before had army food tasted so good to her.

After several minutes of eating, during which Father Mulcahy got up and got a cup of coffee, she finally paused long enough to say, "Okay…time for a shower, now. I think I can stand for that much longer."

Both of her companions chuckled and she slowly stood.

Just as she was about to leave the table, she remembered that she needed to talk to the Father, and she moved over to his side and said, just low enough for him to hear, "John…is it okay if I come by later for Confession? It's been a while, you see, and I was hoping that I could-"

He cut her off with a smile and a nod of his head.

"Say no more, it's not a problem. Of course you can come by! It's what I'm here for, after all," he added, giving her a look, and she smiled.

"Good. See you then…Father."

He nodded and she left the Mess, weaving her way towards her tent, praying that she didn't fall asleep before she got to the shower.

Part 3/?