((I'm using Henry in the story right now for later "plot reasons" :'^) ))

They had been on their journey for a while, passing Bonnie to and fro between Radar and BJ; the 4077 was close to the action, going in between enemy and friendly areas was common, but getting shot at was not. The more experienced camp dwellers began recognizing the surrounding area, and knew their journey was quickly coming to an end.

From the position of the sun it seemed to be nearing 5 o'clock. As they stopped for a quick break just off the road, Radar spotted a sign through the thicket. Once they got closer, they could see it more clearly. An evening shadow cast behind a crudely built wooden sign that read "M*A*S*H 4077: 2 miles" with an arrow pointing straight ahead.

"Oh thank GOD," Pierce said, voicing the collective opinion.

Bonnie could not agree more with Pierce. The humid air was weighing heavily on her; her clothes felt constantly damp from all the sweat she was emitting caused by the amount of strain that was on her. Her wounded leg felt grimy and soft, the conditions not ideal for recovery. More than once she noticed a gap in her memory. Radar and BJ would often ask her questions, simple questions she could not recall the answer to. Several times throughout the day she would come out of a blank to find herself slumped over on her companion. She was fading fast from the dehydration, blood loss, and lack of proper rest.

No sooner than they all had struggled onto the road, they all heard an approaching vehicle coming in the direction from the camp. They all stood on the side of the road but still in plain sight for the incoming friendly. Around the bend came a military vehicle with two personnel sitting in the front. The driver slammed on the breaks right in front of them, and the two got out.

One was a tall-ish man wearing a fishing hat with lures dangling off the top brim. The other was a averaged-height man with thin lips, a stern expression and an army-issued hat.

"P-P-Pierce where have you been," stuttered the fisherman, his eyes wide as he grasped the captain on either arm. "You've been missing for days, we've sent out a half-dozen MPs looking for you. We were driving to the General just now to put in another formal request."

Pierce shrugged out of the man's grasp and dumped the supplies in his outstretched arms. "Well you needn't of worried, Henry. Obviously we're all here in good shape...except our brand-spakin' new surgeon has a bullet wound that's been festering for 3 days. Why didn't we have a military escort if it was this bad?" His voice was raising now, his hot temper had been boiling beneath the surface for days now. "We could have all died, she could still die! Didn't you think ahead? Didn't the military consider their course of action? I assume you found the abandoned Jeep? Riddled with bullets? Yep that was us." He was walking forward now and 'Henry' was backing up.

The man with the severe look about him jumped in, his eyes blazing. "First of all, Pierce, where do you get off speaking to the Lieutenant-Colonel like that? It isn't our fault you went off and got yourselves into this mess. And not just that! You went and got a government vehicle destroyed."

Pierce turned his cold gaze to the loud man, his eyes glazing over. "Frank if you don't shut up, I will punch you. I'm not in the mood for this, none of us are in the mood for your shit. I'm tired, hot, and thirsty. AND ALSO" he suddenly started yelling, his finger pointing affirmatively at Bonnie "SHE HAS A GODDAMN BULLET. WOUND."

Henry looked at Pierce, mouth agape. "Well, Hawkeye we didn't know it was that bad," he whined. He craned his head over Hawkeye's shoulder to see an exhausted Bonnie being supported by a fading Radar. "Ohhhh jeez, you'd better get her in the back," he said, throwing the supplies into the cargo hold.

Bonnie was swept off her feet as BJ took her legs out from under her, cradling her in his strong arms. He hurried her over to the back of the cab and set her down amongst the equipment as neatly as possible. Henry alighted into the back with her and began undressing her wound, his fingers deft and gaze set.

Frank got back in the front seat and barked "Get going, Corporel" to Radar. Radar started, tossed the other supplies to BJ and Hawkeye, and clambered into the Jeep. With an apologetic glance, he roared the engine to life and pulled away from the scene.

Bonnie craned her neck to see BJ and Hawkeye shouldering the supplies before starting after them. They were just going to leave them there? What if something happened? Sure they were close to the camp, but they were surgeons after all, not soldiers.

"Don't worry about them, little miss," said Henry. "Radar will go back to them once we've gotten you into the O.R."

Bonnie didn't want to be called 'little miss' but she was too tired to protest. Instead, she leaned back and tried to stay as still as possible while the surgeon examined her leg. Every so often she felt a prod and a 'tsking' noise would come from her left side. She dared not think about worst-case scenario and instead focused on the clouds rolling above her. They had finally been saved, Bonnie didn't have to fight anymore. Everything was going to be taken cared of; she wasn't going to die.

Soon enough she could hear voices, music, and general bustle of camp ahead of them. She hoped not too many people would notice them rolling in: she didn't want this to be her first impression on her new camp-mates. They drove slowly through the small community and then came to an abrupt stop that rattled her aching head.

The voices became louder as people began recognizing that Radar was back in the camp after being missing for a few days and started to lightly surround the vehicle. Bonnie could hear people slapping him on the back and asking him what shenanagins they pulled that made them late. Radar was laughing with them and commented how hungry he was and how he couldn't tell the story without eating first. After some more hooting and hollering she could hear their voices drift away.

"How can he eat at a time like this?" came Frank's annoyed voice from the cab up front.

"He's moving them away so there isn't a scene about the wounded, Frank," came Henry's exasperated voice. From his tone, Bonnie guessed he had to do this a lot.

Henry took a moment to collapse the back frame of the trunk so they could slide her off instead of heaving her over the lip. He jumped down first and with the help of Frank, they half-carried her into the building.

Just inside the double doors was a set of clean gurnies, and she was lifted onto one. A nurse fully clothed in medical garb came out of the O.R. and wheeled Bonnie inside. There hadn't been a set of casualties that day so all of the stations were open. She was positioned nearest the door and before she could gather her surroundings, two IVs were being fitted into her arms.

Bonnie looked up at the glass bottles that were pumping fluids into her. One was probably a rehydration saline, and the other most likely an antibiotic. The nurse took the opportunity to place a pillow under her neck to support her breathing. It was very quiet in the room, only the sounds of the nurse rustling supplies broke the silence.

The nurse turned her soft brown eyes on Bonnie and gave a reassuring smile through the mask. "Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake is one of the finest surgeons in this war," she said, jiggling one of the fluid bottles to make sure it was dispensing properly. "You have nothing to worry about. He'll be along soon."

At this point things began to slip away from Bonnie. She could hardly make heads or tails of what the nurse was saying, the sounds muffled and far-away. Everything was going in and out of focus with all of the edges soft and fuzzy. As soon as she accepted her safety, Bonnie leaned her head back and went to sleep.