Disclaimer: Obviously, after all this time I don't own M*A*S*H…
It had only been a little over and hour since Trapper had taken Bobbi into surgery. To Klinger though, it felt more like centuries.
Klinger knew that trouble was surely brewing between the unit's resident Major's and Colonel Blake, about what he did to Frank after that idiot had done to Bobbi. So, from Pre-OP; Klinger headed directly to his tent and locked the door behind him.
While in the company of others, Klinger appeared to be cool and collected. The truth was that on the inside, he was really going through his own personal hell.
After the nurses had wheeled Bobbi away into the O.R; Klinger found had found himself feeling very, very alone. It was the type of loneliness that made you physically ache, and you would do anything to relinquish the pain. Sadly, Klinger was no stranger to this type of emotion – especially when it came to Bobbi.
His arms were wrapped tightly around his chest, and his shoulders were hunched upward from the tension he was feeling, as he paced back and forth across his tiny tent.
Talking to a nameless, greater force that he hadn't spoken to for years; Klinger began pin his frustrations and anguish upon it.
"Fifteen years I've known her. The first time I laid my eyes on her I couldn't help but to stare. I thought to myself, "the man destined to marry her someday is indeed blessed to receive such a magnificent gift". Little did I know only a little over a year later, I would lucky enough to call her my Gal. If my sixteen-year-old self could see what would become of Bobbi and me now; my jaw would scrape the floor in utter disbelief." Klinger paused, uncrossed his arms, and shook an angry fist into the air. His tone became notably bitter and remorseful, "Who the hell have I become? Why the hell do you treat me, and especially her, in this way? What have we done to deserve this you stupid bastard!"
The harsh sound of his sewing mannequin crashing down onto the floor, which Klinger had overturned in his sudden fit of rage; amplified the dark mood that had suddenly engulfed the tent.
"She was my world. From the second that I awoke in the morning, to the time that I closed my eyes - all I could think about was her. Why did you make her do the things that she did over in Europe? Don't you know that you ruined our chances of happiness, even before we were able to step out into the world by ourselves! Don't you feel any remorse for the horrid things that have happened to her and me?" He paused for a moment, and as quickly as the demon of anger had invaded his body, it seemed to dissipate.
Out of nowhere the strength was sudden taken away from his lower legs, and he collapsed onto his knees. Stinging, crystal clear tears slowly began to seep from the corners of his eyes as he weakly pleaded to the omniscience presence once more.
"I know that I don't have any right to ask you for favours. I don't know that I don't reach out to you as much other men do… blind faith in a power, greater than myself, has never been something that I could wrap my head around. But please - don't call Bobbi home. Make sure that the doctors can save her. She deserves to live a life outside of the military and the horrors of war. And if you do need to take her today – take me. Oh please –" Klinger's body began to heave and shake violently as the intensity of his crying escalated, "I couldn't bear to lose her all over again. I barely made through last time, and that was while I was in States with my family and friends to lean on. Here in this black hole – I know that the only way I'd ever be okay would be to grab my rifle and shoot myself in the head."
A weight was lifted from Klinger's chest, having finally spoken his mind. He collapsed to the side and simply laid down on floor, with his knees tucked up to his chest.
Tears continued to flow softly down his cheeks as he simply waited to see what path God was going to choose.
"There," Trapper sighed with great relief, as he finished knotting the very last suture in Bobbi's thigh, "all finished. I've done the best I can."
The wary sound defeat in Trapper's tone alarmed Hawkeye, whom was standing on the other side of the operating table. As a best friend and fellow surgeon, Hawkeye knew exactly what he needed to say.
"Damn right you did, Trap. You were quick, but neat and thorough at the same time. There's no reason that she isn't going to make a full recovery."
"Thanks, Hawk," Trapper sighed. To him; Hawkeye's comment felt more so along the lines of patronization rather than praise. He knew though that Hawkeye's intentions were well meant.
Trapper realized that two orderlies and the nurses were waiting for further instructions. So, he put his insecurities aside began to give orders.
"Nurse, go on ahead and double check that Post OP is back in order before Goldman and Daniels here take her back to her original bed. I'll be there right after I change out of these scrubs to give medication and further care instructions."
The nurse nodded in acknowledgement and signalled with a wave of her hand for the orderlies to step in, as she left O.R. for Post OP.
Hawkeye and Trapper then exited through the doors to the scrub room and went behind the curtain to the men's changing area. Hawkeye proceeded to plant his bottom down on the wooden bench beneath the rack where the surgeons hung their uniforms, as is customary for the surgeons at the 4077th after coming out of an O.R. session. Trapper, on the other hand, did not. Instead, he began to change hastily out of his scrubs.
"Hey Trap, where the fire? Come on, sit for a minute," Hawkeye suggested, noting Trapper's unusual behaviour.
"No," Trapper responded rather curtly. "Didn't you just hear me say I'd be right along to Post OP?"
"Right," Hawkeye said a little peeved and confused by Trapper's reaction. He then remembered about the fuss Colonel Blake and Major Houlihan caused right before he and Trapper went to work on Bobbi. Wanting to help Trapper feel more at ease about the entire scenario, he stood and began to shed his scrubs. "I'm gonna go to Colonel Blake's office like he said to, and see is I can get a straight answer about what the hell happened earlier. I want to know why Klinger decided to beat the shit out of Frank, and what that's got to do with Bobbi's leg being torn open like she was a freshly roasted lamb."
Trapper's eye immediately became brighter at the sound of Hawkeye showing interest in the matter. "Good, I'll be along as soon as I can."
When Hawkeye walked into Radar's office, he found the company clerk intensely focused on flipping through the various file folders in the top drawer of one of this filing cabinet. Through the thin wooden doors that connected Henry's office to Radar's; Hawkeye could hear Major Houlihan screeching like an alley cat about insubordination.
"Hiya Radar, how's it going in there?" Hawkeye made his presence known to the company clerk.
"Oh you know, about how you would expect. Major Houlihan is demanding the gallows for Klinger and is threatening to have the female patient booted out of the service." Radar replied without looking up from his files. "Jeez, you know I just had that my file out that contains all the forms necessary for filing a request for a Court Marshal. Where on Earth could it have gone?"
"Don't you remember Radar – you used up the last of them two weeks ago when Frank insisted that Trapper and I be tried for interfering with an officer's natural body functions?" Hawkeye interjected. A rather devilish smirk spread across his face thinking about the incident.
"That right! You and Captain McIntyre tied the strings on Major Burns' boots together while he was asleep. You dressed him in that big pink bunny suit Captain McIntyre ordered from Tokyo, and painted a pink nose and black whiskers on his face. Then you put his hand in an helmet full of warm water. When Major Burns woke up, he had to er - go to the latrine. Didn't he have to go so bad that he didn't have time to untie boots, so he had to hop all the way across the compound to the latrine?"
"That's right," Hawkeye proudly boasted.
"You and Captain McIntyre really do weird stuff when you have nothing to do – did you know that?"
"We're not weird! We just use our spare time in a very creative fashion." Hawkeye puffed his chest out in fake offense.
"Jeepers, I really don't want to have to go back in there and have to tell the Major that I am all out of Court Marshal forms. It's going to take at least three days until I-Core will send me the forms I have to fill out to request more Court Marshal forms!" Radar suddenly became very antsy. He began to nibble on his short nails out of nervousness.
"Don't worry kid – I'll go in with you. I promised Trapper that I'd update the Colonel and our, oh so pleasant matriarch on Captain Morango's condition." Hawkeye said as he placed a reassuring hand on Radar's shoulder.
"Right," Radar replied, not sounding too reassured by Hawkeye's companionship. He often found that Hawkeye's lack of seriousness only enraged Major Houlihan further.
"And furthermore Colonel, I intend to see that a full medical panel is assembled to ensure that that nefarious, waste of skin, Klinger is locked away in a padded cell where he belongs!" Margaret squalled like a stock broker on the floor of the New York stock exchange.
"Major will you clam up for one second and let me get a word in!" Henry shouted out of pure frustration as he stood from the chair behind his desk.
This outburst did, in fact, silence the fiery Major for a moment. But of course, the interval was cut short by the astonished gasp that escaped her throat, which was followed by an inevitable cry of outrage, "How dare you continue to speak to your head nurse – not to mention a fellow commissioned of the United State Army – in such a crude, degrading, fashion!"
Before Margaret could bridge into yet another raving rant; Hawkeye raised his voice to make his presence known. "You're a nurse, toots? I thought you were a Marine Sergeant in drag?"
Margaret immediately spun around and snapped at Hawkeye, "That comment is beneath acknowledgement!"
"Good! Let me know when you decided to acknowledge it," Hawkeye replied sardonically. He then ignored the death glare that Margaret was giving him, and walked up to Henry's desk.
"How's the patient, Pierce?" Henry asked seriously.
"She's stable for now – we were able to control the hemorrhaging in time. I think if Trapper would jumped into action a minute later than he did, she would be alive right now. Trapper and I were able clean out the wound, but there was a lot of debris in there – the formation of gangrenous tissue is high possibility."
"Well whatever happens now Pierce, I'm sure that you and McIntyre did everything you could." Henry added on, noting the disgusted on Hawkeye's face in regards to the entire, lopsided situation.
"Yeah but the question is, if everything is enough to counteract Frank's monumental, medical incompetency?" Hawkeye jabbed. "What the hell happened in Post OP anyways? What's Frank's story?"
"Major Burns is not at fault!" Margaret immediately jumped in to defend her lover's character.
"Yeah then who the hell got those scissors stuck in the patient's leg – Jack the Ripper?"
"Captain Pierce!" Margaret snarled. But Henry quickly cut in, stopped the Major before she could even get going.
"Major Houlihan! Now I have sat here for damn near two hours listening to you foam at the mouth. Get Frank in here so that we can hear his side of the story." Henry then turned his attention to Radar whom was lingering by the doors. "Radar, go find out where the hell Klinger is and drag him in here so that we can hear his side of the story, too."
"Yes sir!" Radar immediately complied, happy to be able to get out of the path of Major Houlihan's fury. But alas, he was not so lucky. Just as he spun around on his heels to make his escape, she spoke up.
"Corporal, wait just a second. Did you find the Court Marshal forms yet?"
"I uh, er, well –" Radar fumbled over his words. He looked at Hawkeye, in the hope that he'd help him out.
Thankfully, Hawkeye caught on immediately and cut in, "He's out. So the little inquisition you're planning is going to have to be put off for a few days." Knowing that Margaret was about to implode at any moment, he waved Radar away, "Go Radar before the Major here ties you upside down by your boot laces."
Radar nodded and scrambled as fast as he could out of the office. He knew that he definitely owed Hawkeye a favour for helping him out.
Not wanting to deal with Henry's and Hawkeye's insubordination further, Margaret huffed in anger, and then stormed out of the office to go collect Frank.
Henry's unusually rigid posture reverted back to his usual slouch, the second that Margaret was out of sight. He immediately went for his liquor cabinet and pulled out a fresh bottle of Kentucky bourbon and two glass tumblers. He set the glass down in the middle of his desk, and poured Hawkeye and himself a rather hefty portion.
"Belly up to the bar, Pierce, because the second Major Fink and Finkette, see Klinger – we're probably going to become witnesses to a second degree murder."
Hawkeye pulled up one of the three khaki painted wooden chairs that were scattered throughout the office, up to Henry's desk. He picked up one of the glasses and at the same time as Henry; downed it in one gulp. After both he and Henry got their required male gasps, and lips curls from just having ingested a strong liquor, out of the way – Henry was the first to speak what was on both of men's minds.
"I've seen Major Houlihan blood thirsty before, but never like this."
"Did she say what Frank excuse was, as to why Klinger decided to redecorate Frank's face?"
"Something about Frank reading Captain Morango's chart wrong."
"What an ass Frank is," Hawkeye scowled. "You know it's probably going to be near impossible to keep Trapper from taking his turn at pummelling Frank's face in. I haven't seen him this pissed off since that time he received those pictures of his girls in the mail, and he got drunk and tried to go AWOL."
Henry waited to reply until he had finished pouring himself and Hawkeye another drink. After each man took a smaller sip that before; Henry asked Hawkeye, "Wouldn't you be too, if Frank almost killed one of your patients like that?"
"Yeah, you've got a point." Hawkeye sighed, realizing that if he were in Trapper's shoes, he'd want to make an invalid out of Frank more than usual.
Hawkeye had a feeling that the disaster was the starting point of the chain of events, which would most likely be the beginning of the unravelling of his best friend.
Lately he noticed that Trapper's spirits had been slowly dwindling. He didn't to pull practical jokes as much as before. The amount of alcohol he consumed has also increased to the point that Hawkeye was beginning to wonder if he should start to worry about it. Each time he had a borderline case; Trapper would spout off more than usual about how useless and destructive war is. He'd especially get stuck on the point about how the government had no right pull men away from their families, only to participate in a war that they had no right to intervene in, in the first place.
Mail call days were the worst. Up until about four or five months ago, Trapper could always count on getting a letter from each of his daughters. Every other mail call he'd get a short note from his wife, too. But lately, he'd receive nothing. If he did, it was a letter from Louise and after reading it – Trapper's mood would instantaneously turn sour. He'd then spend the rest of the day drinking beer and playing pinball in the Officer's Club. By the end of those days, Hawkeye would usually have to argue with Trapper until he stopped drinking and stormed off to the Swamp, where he would inevitably pass out.
If Bobbi had to lose her leg or the worst would happen and she wouldn't pull through – Hawkeye was very afraid that Trapper would have to be sent off in an ambulance down to Seoul, for an extended visit with Sidney Freedman.
After about an hour or so, Klinger had managed to scrape himself off of the floor. He was only able to do that because several troubling thoughts outside of Bobbi's physical health began to swirl around his mind like a winter flurry.
It wasn't long until he found himself pacing back and forth across his small tent, spewing out his intimate thoughts out loud.
"What the hell were you thinking Maxwell Klinger? Knocking out a superior officer's lights is a court martial offense! They could throw in the stockade and throw away the key! Sure I'd be out of the war, but that's not how I want to do it. A section eight is the only real to get out this bloodbath without too much damage.
Then there is the matter of what the people here in this camp must be thinking right now. First I blow up on Major Houlihan in O.R. and then the incident in Post OP. By now these people must be running their mouths off about how obvious it is that I have feelings for Bobbi that are more than just friendship. I'm a married man – everybody here knows it! These people sure love a good scandal; I hope that none of them try to pry the details about our relationship out of me or Bobbi. It's frankly none of their damn business!
Besides, even if they did – what the hell would I say? During World War Two the hospital ship Bobbi was assigned to got sunk by Kraut torpedo, and then her along with the rest of the survivors got pick up by a Kraut destroyer and were taken prisoner. Somehow she ended up behind enemy lines in Europe and fought with the local resistance fighters until the Allies were able to get to her and her American companions. And since then, she's been stuck in the service because God only knows what runs through General's heads! I thought I'd never see Bobbi again when she got shipped over to Korea, so I thought it'd be a good idea to start going steady with her teenage nemesis.
Yeah that'd be a spectacular story. I'm sure somebody would ask if I've been sniffing my nail polish again. Dammit, you know-" Klinger shut his mouth the second he caught the sight of Radar standing in his doorway.
Radar's eyes were wide like saucers and jaw dropped as far as it could go. Klinger could definitely tell that Radar had heard every word of his rant. Knowing that he had to do damage control, and fast – he walked up to Radar and utilized his volatile temper.
"How long have you been standing there?"
"Not that long - honest!" The intensity in Klinger's voice really frightened Radar.
"How much did you hear? Come on, spit it out!" Klinger wasn't buying Radar's weak bluff at all.
"I j-j-just heard you talk about how your scared about what Major Burns is going to do to you. Then you said something about how you don't want people to gossip about you and the female patient, because you didn't want to explain that the Captain was taken prisoner in the last war and now you can't be with her because she's still in service so that's why you married Laverene." Radar instantly regurgitated most the details he had overheard.
"So then you then you heard all of it!" Klinger roared. He then raised a fist in the air and shook it in front of Radar's face. "Don't you ever mention any of that to anybody – ever! Otherwise I'm going to rearrange your face like I did to Major Burns. You got that kid?"
"Y-y-yes Klinger," Radar gulped nervously.
"Good now scram!"
"Yes sir!" Radar was so frightened that he accidently called him sir, because Klinger's booming, angry tone reminded him of the officers that would yell at him all the time during basic training.
He scrambled out of the tent but quickly turned around when Klinger opened up his tent door and called him to come back. Standing just outside of his tent, Klinger asked the company clerk, "Why were you in my tent in the first place?"
"I uh – er, Colonel Blake wants to see you in his office to hear your side of what happened in Post OP," Radar replied tentatively.
Even though Klinger sounded slightly calmer than a few moments before, the darkness in his eyes told Radar otherwise.
Klinger ground his back molars together and narrowed his eyes at Radar. He studied the company clerk's face to see if he was withholding some information from him. For all Klinger knew, there could be two MP's waiting to haul him away so that he can start his career as a convict. Ultimately, he decided that Radar was telling the truth because even though he had just scared the pants off of the kid – Radar wouldn't lie to him about something so serious.
"Fine. Tell him I'll be there in two minutes," Klinger muttered before turning around and vanishing back inside of his tent.
Radar however, stayed still for a moment out of pure shock. He had just witnessed side of Klinger that nobody in the camp ever seen before. Listening to Klinger talk about Bobbi, he recognized the element of passion in Klinger's voice that was truly human. None of the facades of his daily antics, or over the top personality was present. Klinger was simply being himself – somebody who was deeply worried about a person he loves.
During the interval that Hawkye and Henry were waiting for Radar, Klinger and the two Major's to return; Trapper strolled in from Post OP.
"Henry – did Hawkeye fill you in on the status of Captain Morango?" Trapper asked as he pulled up a wooden chair beside Hawkeye and sat down. He then pointed to bottle of bourbon sitting on the middle of the desk, "give me one of those. I can sure use one."
As Henry got up and grabbed Trapper a glass from his liquor cabinet, he replied to Trapper, "Yeah he did. Sounded like it was pretty dicey in there for a while."
"Damn right," Trapper nodded. After he had poured himself a drink and took a rather generous sip of it; he inquired to nobody in particular, "So, do we know what motivated Frank try and carve that girl up like a Christmas ham?"
"No," Hawkeye was the first to answer, "we're just waiting for Houlihan to grab Frank from the Swamp, while Radar tries to track down our Lebanese dark horse."
"Uh huh," Trapper sighed. All of his intense anger and overall exhaustion had caused a dull ache to form around his temples.
Just then the office doors burst open, as Margaret ushered Frank inside with a distinct look of worry was plastered across her face.
"Now just take it easy Major. There is a chair right in front of you. That's right; careful now," Margaret instructed in a motherly fashion.
A pathetic whimper escaped from Frank as he took a seat. There was a dark purple, ring of discolouration was prominent around his right eye. In the morning, he was sure to have a shiner as black as coal. His lower lip was swollen, and cracked slightly to the left of the centre of his face. Brownish and red bruises covered most of right, as well as some of his left cheek bones. There were also three shallow lacerations across the left side of his forehead.
It was safe to say when the other three doctors saw Frank's face; they all shared expressions of varying degrees of shock.
Hawkeye, of course, burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Many times in his dreams had he fanaticized about beating up Frank. The fact that an overly hairy, cross-dressing, Toledo native beat him to it, was somehow more satisfying than if Hawkeye had been the perpetrator himself.
The feeling of unadulterated disgust and anger instantly formed as a hard lump in Trapper's chest at the sight of Frank. Yes, the fact that Frank looked like he had just lost three rounds with Muhammad Ali was well deserved in Trapper's mind. However, Frank probably wouldn't be able to walk if Trapper had been in the ward when the event had gone down.
Henry's jaw dropped so low that the skinny cigar that was dangling lazily from between his lips, fell onto his desk. Major Houlihan had whisked Frank away to get treated for his injuries right after Klinger had Post OP; so he was seeing Klinger's damage for the first time as well.
"Captain Pierce! Don't you have an ounce of humanity in your lecherous soul? How dare you laugh at the misfortune of a sick man – not to mention a superior officer!" Margaret barked at Hawkeye.
"I – I just can't –" Hawkeye couldn't even formulate a proper comeback because he was laughing so hard.
"Colonel Blake, I demand that you put Pierce in line this instant!" Margaret turned her attention to Henry, realizing that she would never get anywhere by harping at Hawkeye.
"Holy Moses – Frank – you look about as bad as I did in the fourth grade after I tried to get my lunch back from the neighbourhood bully," Henry blurted out. He was to entranced by Frank's appearance to acknowledge Margaret's comment.
"Oh can we just get on with it! Major Burns is in a lot of pain, and the sooner we get this over with, the sooner he can return to resting." Margaret snapped. Her patience was definitely beginning to thin.
"We have to wait for Klinger to get here," Trapper added harshly.
Right then, Radar burst through the doors causing all the attention in the room to be turned to him.
"Where's Klinger?" Henry asked, annoyed that he wasn't with Radar.
"He'll be along any second now," Radar answered nervously. His experience with Klinger, combined with heavy tension and anger he felt in the room made him feel very uncomfortable.
By this point, Hawkeye had managed to get a hold of his laughter, so he noticed the wary expression through the young Iowan's bottle cap glasses. "Hey Radar what's the matter," Hawkeye questioned, "you look you just realized that Santa Claus isn't real."
"What? Uh, it's nothing sir," Radar bluffed, remembering the warning to keep his mouth shut which Klinger had given him earlier. He then proceeded to address Henry, "is that all for now Colonel?"
"Yes Radar," Henry replied absently.
Just as Radar had promised, Klinger entered the hostile filled office. On the outside, Klinger's demeanor appeared to be rigid and angry; like he'd be ready to launch into aggression at any moment. If you looked in his eyes though, there was a torturous look of worry in his deep brown eyes.
"Good you're here Klinger, now we can get this circus over with," Henry commented dryly. He then turned his gaze from the centre of the room where Klinger was standing; to where Margaret and Frank where sitting, just to the left of his desk. "Alright Frank, out with it - why'd Klinger attack you?"
"Major Burns had just returned from leave, as you know, and decided to go check up on the patients in Post OP-"
"Major Houlihan – if Major is really serious about pressing charges against Klinger, then I'd like to hear his story from his own mouth!" Henry interrupted, annoyed with the Major's usual act of interchangeability.
Margaret grunted in annoyance, but ultimately gave Frank the nod to begin speaking. She only hoped that he wouldn't bungle up the speech that they had rehearsed earlier in the privacy of the Swamp.
"Well," Frank began. His speech slightly distorted thanks to his cracked lip and sore jawbone, "as the Major said; I decided to go check up on the case in Post OP. I looked in on two patients with minor wounds before reviewing the female patient's chart. I thought that the one signifying that the patient had been in the hospital for one day looked more like a seven to me. Noting the number of days since surgery, I decided that it was time for the patient's sutures to be removed." Frank's voice instantly became a bit louder and more aggressive as he continued. "That's when that lunatic of a pervert started to assault me. I tried to fight back, but the Corporal was as crazed as a mad dog sir! Keeping him on this base any second longer is putting the safety of every person in this unit in jeopardy."
"Frank – throwing your hands up in the air and crying "Uncle", is not fighting back." Hawkeye quipped as he glared at Frank with revulsion.
Hearing that Bobbi had almost lost her life because Frank couldn't read a chart properly; ignited the simmering fury that was floating in Trapper's chest. He quickly jumped to his feet, causing his chair to jerk backwards and emit a cringe worthy scarping noise.
"You stupid, worthless piece of shit!" Trapper shouted as he charged directly at Frank. He was only able to grab Frank by the shirt collar and throw him off his chair to the floor; before Hawkeye's and around his chest and pulled him away from Frank.
"Trapper stop it! He's not worth the trouble." Hawkeye shouted as he struggled to keep his hold on his friend.
"Major Burns!" Margaret gasped in fright and she immediately bent down help a traumatized Frank back up on the chair. "Did he hurt you?"
When Frank shook his head no, Margaret immediately spun around and got in Trapper's face. "You just assaulted a superior officer – Major Burns should charge you alongside Klinger!"
Even though Trapper had stopped trying to escape Hawkeye's hold; Hawkeye still held on with all his might because he knew how unpredictable Trapper could be when he was this angry.
"You just try Major Medusa and see how much sympathy Frank will get in a court room, once the judge hears that he has the medical competency and common sense of a snail!" Trapper growled.
If the Majors were going to try and take Trapper down – he'd bring them down right alongside him.
"Alright, enough people!" Henry's voice boomed through the room like a canon.
It wasn't often that Colonel Blake raised his voice like that, so when he did – everybody knew not to challenge him. He had reached his boiling point, and wasn't going to put up with any more anger or arguing.
Hawkeye let go of Trapper, and everybody's posture immediately deflated; their attentions fixed on their commanding office.
"Klinger, did you attack Major Burns so that he'd stop hurting the patient?" Henry got right down to the point.
"That's right," Klinger nodded, feeling thankful that the Colonel wasn't taking Major Burns and Houlihan's side. "I was just entering Post OP from leaving to go to the latrine. I heard her scream in pain, and instantly ran to her bed and saw Major Burns with a pair of scissors in his hand and blood beginning to seep from Bobbi's leg. That's when I tackled him."
"How did the instrument get imbedded in the wound, which led to the hemorrhaging?" Henry went right to the next obvious question.
"Major Burns yanked on the lace collar of my dress which made me lose my balance and we rolled over top of Bobbi, before he landed on the floor, rolled, and knocked the screens around her bed down. Somehow during that, the scissors must have gotten stuck in her wound." As Klinger explained, it was evident to every person in the room that Klinger was supressing a deep-seated, wrathful, rage.
"So you're saying that it isn't Major Burns' fault at all. It could have been either you or Frank's weight that could have embedded the scissors in the patient's open wound!" Margaret was quick to point out what she saw as a fallacy, in Klinger's claim of innocence.
"Are you deaf, Major?" Trapper shouted. Part of him couldn't believe the words that just came out of her mouth.
"Excuse me?"
"Everybody shut up!" Henry used his loud voice to take control of the situation before things began to really escalate again. "Klinger I want to see you at 08:30 tomorrow morning so Radar can take down an official statement. Frank – I'll see you at 10:00 hours for your statement. Sound good?" After looking around and noting that both Frank and Klinger were bobbing their heads in agreement, he concluded, "Now all of you get out my office."
Klinger was the first to depart, followed by Margaret leading Frank out by the arm like he was a blind man, and then Hawkeye and Trapper began to slowly leave.
"Not you McIntyre," Henry singled out Trapper.
Hawkeye was already out the door when Henry called, so it was only Trapper left in the small office anyways. When he turned around and walked up to the desk; Henry added in his final point on the matter for the day.
"You have my word McIntyre – I'm not going to let those two get their way this time," Henry referred to Margaret and Frank. "What Frank did was beyond excusable, and if this had happened back in the States, he would probably lose his licence over it. I can't do that good over here in a warzone, but I'll make damn sure that they don't go after you, your patient or Klinger – even if it kills me."
Trapper found himself genuinely surprised by the pure conviction in his commanding officer's voice. He would have never guessed in a million years that Henry would have such strong backbone – but you never know what lies beneath the surface of a man.
"You know what Henry - your not to bad after all."
A/N: Whoot! Chapter 7. So now we know that yes it was indeed Frank's lack of smarts that caused this terrible incident. Hopefully Klinger's two rants gave you readers a bit of clue as to Bobbi's and Klinger's history, as well as sort of explained some of Bobbi's flashbacks from the previous chapter.
Also I hope that Trapper's anger wasn't OOC. If you watch his character closely, when it comes to his patients, he is very, VERY protective of them – even more so than Hawkeye in my opinion. Good examples are in Radar's report, and his case in the Season 1 finale (can't remember its name right now!)
I am curious to see how you think Radar is going to handle the information he overheard in Klinger's tent?
Thanks to all of my reviewers, they really do encourage me to keep on writing!
As always, thank you for taking the time out of your day to read my story, and ask if you have any thoughts/constructive criticism please leave a review.
