"Incoming wounded. All personnel report to the O.R., immediately"
Radar's introverted, awkward, yet oddly assertive-like cadence rung from the PA system throughout the entire base. It had been several weeks since Hot Lips came to him in the middle of the night with her rather outlandish suspicions.
And at this point in time, even he had to admit- something was awry. Not only did he have the god-awful nausea to contend with. Fatigue and heartburn were also being tossed into the ring.
"C'mon, Hawk. You heard the munchkin, up 'an at 'em"
Trapper attempted to rouse his exhausted friend with a light push on the shoulder. This, in turn, earned him a groan of discontent and something that sounded an awful lot like "[explicit] you".
"Can ya just tell our patients to not get injured?"
He gave a slightly muffled whinny complaint, simultaneously wrapping his blanket tighter around him and closing off the rest of the world. Trapper sighs, he didn't want it to come to this. But it was the only guaranteed way he'd get out of bed.
Hurrying over, he grabbed a martini glass still filled with gin. He then makes his way around Hawkeye's cot so they're now facing each other. Trapper then proceeded in waving the glass within smelling range with a fluid motion of his wrist. Immediately, the poor surgeon's eyes spring open and he makes a mad dash for the latrine.
"Pierce, will ya pass me those clamps?"
Henry inquired, his focus never straying from the young, battered man on the table. He gives an agitated groan and slips the bumbling Colonel the instrument. A bead of sweat trickling down his forehead, eliciting the most Irritating sensation from his skin's receptors.
An older nurse of Hot Lips' cavalry, pats the sweat away with a small sponge. Before long, Hawkeye was beginning to feel oddly light-headed. He stops for a moment, shutting his eyes and trying to calm himself through breathing exercise.
"What's wrong, Pierce? Did you forget how to operate?"
Frank cracked, this is immediately followed by his weasel-like snickering. Pierce was about to shoot the exhibitionist Major a death glare. He no sooner got a single word out before his vision started getting fuzzy, and it was lights out.
"Hey.. you're back!"
Henry and Trap exclaim in unison. The mix of both joy and relief, splashed with a hint of fear, trailed on their breath. The Captain blinks slowly, attempting to adjust his sight.
"What happened?"
He asks in a somewhat disoriented, weary voice. Finding some gratefulness that his vision was steadily coming around. He notices Margaret towards the back looking concerned.
"Ya passed out, pal"
Trapper supplied with a pat on the shoulder. He found the whole situation rather odd. In his whole 37 years, he couldn't recollect a single time he fainted. Hot Lips hurries over to the foot of the bed.
"Is everything okay?"
Her bright blue eyes wide, as if her only purpose at that point in time was to hang on to his every word. Alright, now there was no denying it, he was transported to some nonsensical, parallel universe. The Old War Horse had never shown this level of humanity, at least towards him. He nods his head in reply.
Suddenly, Frank appears out of nowhere. Brandishing his lowly index finger in her face. Naturally this gesture did not set well with her. Without warning, his voice booms out.
"I knew it! I knew something was going on between you two"
"Frank, I've told you a thousand-"
"Okay, can everyone just shut the Hell up for a second?!"
Henry cut the bickering couple off. He gives a heavy sigh and his tone shifts.
"Pierce..I think I know what's goin' on"
Blake momentarily glancing at Hawkeye. McIntyre couldn't help but chuckle at this.
"Henry, you thought a World War 2 surplus map was the layout of a Korean minefield and nearly had me blown up. So maybe you oughta.."
"Trap, just hear him out, alright?"
This time, it was Hawkeye to interject. Accompanied by an exasperated and stern undertone. Trapper's grin falls and clears his throat.
"Sorry, Hawk"
Came a rather sheepish response. Henry suddenly appeared unusually anxious, his attention on the floor. He too, cleared his throat. Requesting that everyone leave the area to give him and the star surgeon some space for a minute. They oblige and make their way out of the room. Pierce couldn't help but notice Hot Lips' lingering glances as she was leaving. Almost as if he were going to die if she wasn't present.
"So what's this all about, Henry?"
He could feel a corner of his mouth give way to a crooked smile. Whatever Henry wanted to talk to him about, he was sure it would be nothing short of pure entertainment. The Colonel proceeds in clearing his throat, once again. It was as though someone asked him to give a lecture on sex. And everyone knew how awful he was at it. He rubs the back of his neck nervously.
"So, uh...I, uh..I don't know exactly how to break this to you.."
The young man arches a brow confoundedly, chuckling lightly.
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow, Henry. Break what to me?"
Even he had to admit, this was starting to worry him. Was he really dying and Henry just didn't know how to convey it? Henry chuckles a bit and sits on the edge of Pierce's bed. His stark white surgical mask, hanging lazily around his neck.
"Well, Pierce..you see, ah. When a man and a wo-"
"-Henry, I don't need a biology course. Just lay it on me.. What?!"
Margaret observes the happenings from a gap in one of the thick, white dividing curtains.
"Well, you're, uh..you're..pregnant"
Before Hawkeye even had time to process what he was told, both men hear a rather loud thud. The presence of light blonde hair could be seen, splayed unruly underneath the curtain's bottom. The news had apparently sent Hot Lips into a fainting spell as well.