The journey seemed arduous, dusty dirt roads, hidden snipers, checkpoints, but the couple had finally arrived at the base hospital. It was no different from home, really. People running about like chickens with their heads cut off. A Korean man, donning a slightly blood-stained, white surgical gown and cap, rushes over to greet the Major and Captain .
"So glad you 'wo could make it. I'm Jii Yun, Lieu'enant Colonel of 'is mad'ouse"
Both Pierce and Houlihan were quite shocked, his English may have been a bit broken, and the accent discernible. But at least he was capable of carrying on a conversation rather fluently. Then again, this didn't come as a complete surprise.
For some surgeons, especially Lieutenants, it was a key component during their draft to become acquainted with the language. They treated wounded US soldiers, as well as their own. Same could be said for the 4077 concerning Korean, although, with Henry at the helm, it was a bit more lax. Hawkeye smiles and extends his hand to shake his.
"We're quite used to it, Jii. Unfortunately Truman hasn't called off the war yet"
The Korean man chuckled and tucked the stray bits of black hair back underneath his medical cap. He then directs them to the station to scrub in and change into their surgical garments.
"We'll 'eal with de paperwork, later"
He informs them, quickly signaling to one of the nurses to grab their gowns and masks. And like that, he disappeared somewhere in the chaos. Pierce could hear Hot Lips let out a frustrated growl.
"You'd think they could at least let us unpack our things before we get elbow deep in organs"
Suddenly a young woman appeared and handed the Doctors their scrubs, masks, and gloves before hastily departing. Head down, not saying a word. A somewhat mischievous smirk soon found its way onto the Captain's face.
"I'm sure they would be most grateful to have you handling their organs"
A look of disgust soon washed over her as she let out a sudden gasp. This is immediately followed by a slap across the arm with her latex glove. The muggy air hung with the unpleasant aroma of blood, sweet and metallic. To Hawkeye, they were just trading in one Hell for another. He also wanted to remind her this wasn't the Hotel Ritz, but it was probably more wise to keep his thoughts to himself and save her the added misery.
They had just finished dressing and making their way to the surgical area when a shell exploded, some 400 feet from the base hospital. This igniting cries of panic from the staff, overhead lighting swayed violently. The sheer force had knocked Margaret clear off her feet. Fortunately, Hawkeye was there to catch her in his gloved hands.
"Uh, thank you"
She spoke almost breathlessly. He gives a small smile and helps her steady herself once again.
"Don't mention it. But you know, this now means no objections to shared accommodations"
Back at the 4077 base, Frank was obnoxiously relishing his newfound freedom away from at least one of his two tormentors. However, his feelings were perplexing in its conflict. As there was a small, dark cloud that hovered over him in the wake of Margaret's absence. With his mind still off elsewhere, preoccupied with what his mistress Major was doing. He was so distracted, in fact, he very nearly nicked his patient's pulmonary artery.
"Jesus, Frank! Pay attention 'tah what yer doin'!
Trap's voice boomed in anger. Catching a concerned and disproving look from Father Mulchahy.
"Eh, sorry, Father"
He uttered in a low tone, sheepishly. The Reverend nodded, that sweet, understanding smile reappearing.
"It's quite alright, my son"
Suddenly, Henry pipes up. This being a welcome relief from the tension between Trap and Frank.
"When do ya think Brass is sendin' out those replacements?!"
Trapper shrugs and continues focusing on retrieving the bits of metal from his patient like some sort of laboratory frog dissection. Just then, Frank let's out a sharp scoff. As to let those around drop what they're doing and listen to his "worldly insight".
"Replacements, phfft..what a joke. They don't think we're qualified enough?"
Trapper catches as Henry rolls his eyes at the statement. The gin aficionado chuckles before wiping the bit of sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.
"Frank, in yer case. You should be used 'tah hearin' you're not qualified enough"
It was nearing nightfall at the Seoul base and suffice to say, the couple were both physically and mentally exhausted. So much so, in fact, Margaret didn't even put up a fight when discovering she would have to room with the playboy surgeon until her own accommodations were ready the following morning.
"Ugh"
She groans, falling onto the olive green cot in a helpless heap. " And don't you try anything" she forewarns, exerting what was the last of her sharp tongue for the evening. The Captain gives a rather impish smirk and chuckles.
Reaching into one of his bags and producing a small, glass bottle of the nurse's favorite brandy. He lets out a dramatic sigh to catch her attention.
"Guess this means I'll have to drink this brandy alone. Wasn't easy to come by, either"
This immediately caught her attention. Hook, line, and sinker. She immediately fixes her hair and clears her throat.
"You, uh, you wouldn't mind sharing would you?"
"I thought you'd never ask"
The sound of a poorly played bugle jolted her awake in the early morning hours. Her head was pounding, noise was like torture. But if that wasn't bad enough, she discovered she only was draped in an itchy woolen cot blanket. She glances over at the clump of black hair on the pillow facing her, she let's out a barely audible gasp.
"Oh, my God! I slept with Pierce!"