Some hours later, as I sat there tired, bandaged and smelling like smoke, I joined the meeting we all had in Henry's office. With Radar spying outside with Klinger (his companion sometimes when I was in the office or not available), I also took note that Henry resided over this meeting, with me, Hawkeye, Trapper, Margaret and Frank coming in to talk about the events from the previous hours beforehand. An MP stood at the door with us, ignoring the exchanges, but always at attention, just in case something unexpected happened.

In the meantime, as we sat around that office, we knew that Simmons was still on the loose, not caught yet. Although the hour was still early, we knew that the camp was secured and our way to the office was marked with security personnel that were competent enough and doing overtime. Oftentimes, we saw an MP here and there in the camp, especially around the officers who were important, like Henry and Frank. It was a small comfort of course, but it can't stop the ill-fated happenings in the camp, things that even made the MPs go crazy. Twenty-four hours a day, we had to watch our backs. Anytime, we can be stabbed, shot or killed.

Not to mention, commanding officers can call meetings at all hours, especially at M*A*S*H units. This one was no different. It was before the sun came up for dawn when Henry called this particular meeting, about oh six hundred hours (after breakfast had been served for the first round), so everybody looked like a mess, especially me. My dirty brunette hair stuck out in different directions and I sought to fix it at every moment I had. Being in my usual pajamas and such at this early hour did not help matters either, but it was no matter to anyone, who had a hellish night too. Margaret stopped me as she and I went to the office, looking at me with sympathetic eyes once more before we entered together.

Margaret too had a long night, longer by the fact that we were her nurses. She was the one who looked for me when all of the other nurses came out. She was the one who saw me in the corner of the burning tent, trying to come out and find the door. I was beaten down, had disheveled clothes on and sported some burns on my arms. Seeing this, she screamed for help, going into the dangers. Our head nurse helped me out despite the risk of fire, got the four doctors, and there I was, back in Pre-Op, being bandaged and examined once more.

I said that I had clothes on for a reason. Simmons, who had been waiting there this whole time, had grabbed me from behind, before I could escape the fire in the tent. In the safest spot in the tent, he raped me for the second time, coughing as he held me down, with a knife at my throat and near to the fire. He had made sure the light clothing came back on quickly before anybody found me without them. He forced me to put them on, at knifepoint yet again, and said not to say a word about anything we did or else he can easily come back and kill me and Hawkeye.

That order was obviously easy for me to obey, one that I did without question and without asking much from him. The secret stayed with me though. I didn't want any of the doctors examining me like that ever again, even if it was serious and going to kill me. I can easily admit to becoming disoriented and knocking my head out on the tent pole before Margaret found me, dizzy and bewildered. I could never admit to seeing Simmons again though, even if it meant the lives of those around me.

Not to mention, how can I explain that I was raped again? And then, I let Simmons get away with it, without calling anyone (especially an MP) for help? It was shameful enough the first time, earlier in the day. The second time seemed worse, as if death itself could never redeem me from the horrible mistake, always that mercy from the pain and suffering. I was already sending myself into a dark exile and one that I knew that I could never come back from.

I looked back at Margaret as we settled into the office (thoughts of my own punishment halted for now) and gave her a small smile in reply to her concern. I then saw her soot-covered face, mixed with the green mask she possibly put on hours before, hours before she smelled the smoke and ran to the cries of help. Her blonde hair too fell into dirty, thick clumps, hanging limply on the sides of her neck without its usual one hundred strokes. It was somewhat graying, but always with that blonde glow that we all recognized, but I could have been imagining things. The smoke could have clouded her hair.

Frank, always protective of Margaret (no matter how their relationship pushes and pulls), put his hand on her shoulder, pulling her back. It caused her eyes to suddenly become cold, hard and Regular Army once more. She looked like she wanted to rant at Henry again about the security in the camp, so waited until the commanding officer spoke. Business was business of course and we had to get to the bottom of the issue. Henry had to speak out first before he was run over by Margaret again.

Henry cleared his throat, only sitting down when Frank and Margaret did, close to the MP in the back of the office. "Ladies and gentlemen, we need a solution to…the issue at hand, and it's capturing one of our own, or use to be our own, Daniel Simmons, also known as Jacob Zimmerman, who is obviously a, umm, danger to this camp."

I lifted my arms and balled up my fists (even though Hawkeye told me not to when he mended the damage done to them) and banged them on Henry's desk in front of me. While Trapper and Hawkeye next to me winced as they thought of the possible damage I inflicted upon myself once more, Margaret, Frank and Henry jumped with fright at the thought of a possible attack on the officers. Even the MP jumped, positioning his gun to fire if necessary, and he relaxed when he realized that it was just me who was being pissy. If the situation wasn't so serious, I would have been laughing my ass off. It would have been harsh and hard, but it would have kept me in the darkness still.

"And what are we going to do about it, Henry?" I asked with some venom in my voice. "I'm frightened already and feel history repeating itself once more. I don't want it to keep on like this, especially now."

Hawkeye gave me a look when I turned back to face him, asking a million questions within a sitting. His face seemed to say much more asking what was going on. He was even looking about confused, concerned too. Hell, even Trapper gave me the same face (also wanting to shot me in the ass with a sedative to keep me still for sure). Instead though, his seemed to ask me that one question that everybody seemed to have on their minds, but dare not voice out loud without my temper flaring. I knew that it was something that he noticed might have happened. He, as well as Hawkeye, could never confirm their suspicions though.

What had really happened in there, other than the burns?

The two Swampmen didn't want me to be moving my slightly burnt arms around and becoming stressed out, but if they wanted to achieve that, they were too late. The meeting in Henry's office was making me agitated already, especially after a time like this and in the state of mind I had. The two, knowing them, would keep me in the nurses' quarters (a new tent and our belongings salvaged with nobody hurt, save for me) until it was over because it would irritate me. It would be punishment enough.

"We have the MPs looking for Simmons as we speak, Captain Morrison," Frank said from his forlorn corner, getting my thoughts off of Hawkeye and Trapper. "They're experts in their art and would stop it nothing. They're sure to find him."

"And if they don't, then what do we do?" Margaret asked Frank. Turning to Henry, she added, "Colonel Blake, I don't want any more of my nurses getting hurt. One is enough and too much already. More is pushing it." She then huffed up, her feathers ruffled, continuing. "I want an investigation into this grave matter immediately and all possible places for the prisoner searched, especially in the villages around the camp. And I suggest all enlisted men not on duty to help the MPs. It lightens their duty and gives them more reason to keep the camp safe."

"Say, that's a good suggestion, Major," Frank chimed in, rubbing his chin (or what looked like one). "The officers don't need to be chasing a criminal. We have more important things to do, like making decisions."

"Yeah, and then what do you do when they find Simmons?" Hawkeye inquired of Frank in a frantic tone. "Then you can dance from emergency to emergency, Frank, because we don't have enough firearms for everybody, if that's what you want them using."

"Pierce has a point, Frank," Henry pointed out. "We also can't spare anybody in the camp right now, even the enlisted personnel. HQ Seoul just sent word about an offensive on Hill 403 again. And this place is under threat of an enemy attack within the next month because of this, so we have to prepare to be moved again. We can't spare anybody here except those…well, trained to be…well, spared."

Trapper groaned. "Another causality of war. Why can't we just send them magazines to hit each other with? Roll them up and have a fight!"

"It's less of a mess and we won't be needed here," Hawkeye added as he glanced briefly at me, thinking. "Uncle Sam can send us home finally and we can dance another way."

"Gentlemen," Henry started.

"Gentlemen?" Trapper was incredulous, insulted even. "Hey, Hawkeye, did you hear? We're gentlemen!"

"Captains, we need to get back to the issue at hand here," Margaret reminded them as I stifled a random giggle, trying hard not to make a comment as the ludicrous situation unfolded into something more comical. "And that is finding the criminal terrorizing this camp!"

"Yes, Major, so don't get your panties in a bunch." Henry sighed. "Now, I propose this. Nobody is alone. Make sure we buddy-up and walk in groups. I'm sure, with this camp, it won't be a problem. We're all together and very close, especially between us men and the ladies. We also work as a team and therefore, it shouldn't be an issue to be seen together in public…outside of the OR, that is."

I clapped (considering Henry lucky that I stayed quiet until that moment, save for the outburst earlier), commenting sarcastically, "Hey, Henry, that's good for you! You made a good decision today, and one from the top of the lonely mountain!"

Hawkeye and Trapper joined me in clapping, although they did not like the usage of my hands, while Margaret and Frank obviously appearing to be disgusted by our lack of seriousness in the situation, mine included. After all, I had been the one attacked, not anyone else so far. And they didn't even have a clue as to half of the things I had to deal with, not realizing that this was how I dealt with this lonely shadowy place.

"Nice, obvious decision, Henry," Trapper said after me. "I applaud you for it."

"Shut up, all of you," Henry retorted, adjusting the collar of his shirt and giving Hawkeye the evil eye quickly, shutting him up before he added anything after Trapper. "Jeanie, that means you too. Don't run off or anything."

I saluted, making Hawkeye wince again. "Whatever you say, Dad."

"Colonel Blake, what about the enlisted men searching for Simmons?" Frank asked in a whiny voice, disbelieving that that meeting was already over and that we were all dismissed, just like that. "Major Houlihan had a good suggestion there. I think you should consider it."

"Not unless you want more wounded in here to work on yourself, Frank, considering not just your trigger-happy attitude, but also the lack of men around the camp." Henry stood up and inched to pace, choosing instead to stay in his place. "Pierce and McIntyre will have their gloves and magazines blown-up and rolled up. So, I highly suggest that you have your own pistols loaded and keep a watchful eye out."

"Colonel!" Margaret screeched, which even gave me a headache.

"I demand you do something more!" Trapper mimicked, which made both Frank and Margaret look to him in anger.

Henry then looked to the rest of us, sighing and ignoring the scene before him. "Ladies and gentlemen, we're up for a few rough days ahead of us. Let's not ruin it by pitting against each other."

"Such encouraging words from the commanding officer," Hawkeye commented as we all got up and turned to leave, him and Trapper taking me by the arms (each on a side) and guiding me out. He then sniffled, a fake sob coming on.

"Well, you heard the colonel," Frank whined as soon as we got out of Henry's office, Radar pretending to be working on some paperwork on his desk area and Klinger most likely gone elsewhere. "We're up for a few rough days."

"Oh, Frank, it'll be ok," Margaret cooed at him, rubbing his shoulders and back as she went behind him. "We can always pair up, like we did earlier this month, before we all split up by gender. It's cold enough." She cuddled close to Frank, obviously thinking that he could escape the Swamp and the whole camp in her tent for the time being.

"But it isn't so cold, Major," I pointed out as Henry was heard snorting in his office. If it was in disgust, I could not tell, but I bet that he was hearing every word of the conversation because of the reply he gave us.

"What difference does it make?" Henry called from his office. "Just follow orders!"

"This is the first time I heard the Chief saying something," Hawkeye muttered. "Come along, kids. Let's go home or check in on the office. There's bound to be something to do."