"Ar..are you sure about this, sir?"

Radar stammered briefly. With Klinger to his right, the two were honed in on Frank's canard surrounding Hawkeye's pregnancy.

"Of course I am. Everyone knows what a skirt-chasing slag Pierce is-"

"Sir, this isn't right, (Klinger interjected) I agree with Radar. We don't know the actual story"

Frank's expression quickly morphs into crossed.

"And who asked you? I'm tellin' ya. That bastard child was probably conceived out of an orgy. God only knows who the mother is"

Just then, Hot Lips was making her way across the mess hall when she happened upon the tail end of Frank's idle gossip. "Why, that weaselly little scumbag" she growled under her breath. Biting her lower lip, she peered down at the currently empty stainless steel tray in her hands, a quick glance at Frank and chucks the hunk of metal towards his head. Nearly missing it by a couple inches.

"What the Hell?!"

Frank exclaimed, his whiny-like cadence ringing out. The two exchange looks across the hall. Though, suffice to say, his was a bit more perplexed and terrified.

"Major Burns, a word, please"

Both Klinger and Radar couldn't help but chuckle at Frank's predicament. Tailing Houlihan like a guilty dog, he quickly flashes the Corporal and clerk a dirty look. Rader pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before turning to Klinger.

"What do ya think that was about?"

The proboscis crossdresser shrugs.

"Who knows, kid. Hey, let's get to the chow before the flies do"

"Honey hips, what's this about?"

Burns whined like a petulant child. The two convene in her tent, she does a final sweep to make sure her door was, in fact, closed. She sighs heavily, loosely folding her arms and leaning against a far wall for support.

"What this is about, Frank. Is the unfounded gossip you're spreading concerning Pierce"

His eyes immediately start narrowing to coincide with a high-pitched giggle.

"Who said it was unfounded? The entire base knows he sleeps around. Is it so improbable to assume the mother of his child could be your entire Nurse Corps?! Hell, maybe even the commies! You know how sneaky those dog-breath kinks are"

Margaret simply rolls her eyes. There was no point in interrupting whilst Frank was on one of his many anti-Korean tangents. As extreme and militant as they were. She gives another heavy sigh.

"Yes, Frank.. It is improbable"

She finally spoke. A pang of tension behind her words. He cocked a sparsely haired brow, a breathy-like "Ha" escapes his lips in an incredulous fashion.

"How so, Margaret? Don't tell me you're the mother.."

He notices immediately as her expression shifts even more seriously than it had before. Frank's face drops, he could feel his heart start to free-fall and subsequently shatter. He wanted to speak, oh, did he ever. But the words wouldn't come out. Margaret exhales shakily.

"It was an accident. This wasn't supposed to-"

"-Oh, spare me the sob story. Just wait till I get my hands on him"

He turns in a huff to leave, but not before Hot Lips plants an effective word of forewarning.

"You so much as lay a finger on him, Frank. And Colonel Blake will have two new balls to practice his putting"

Suddenly the Major wasn't as tough as he would've liked to appear. He swallowed nervously and exited the tent. Perhaps his gossiping had quelled, and he heeded Hot Lips' threat of his manhood. Nevertheless, this didn't mean he was done with Pierce. Whatever it was, however long it took. He would get his just desserts in the end.

Where the time went was anyone's guess. The 4077's top surgeon was now well into his second trimester at nearly six months. At this stage, it wasn't quite as easy to disregard his once toned stomach. Thankfully, the morning sickness had dissipated. Unfortunately, this didn't mean he was spared. His ankles would swell if he stood for too long, off-the-wall cravings that had Trapper curl his upper lip in disgust, and he felt as though he'd have to put up a second address at the latrine.

"Hawk, that's truly disgustin'"

Trapper remarked, the words drowning in revulsion as he watched his friend smother an Oreo in ketchup and pop it in his mouth. Pierce chuckled a bit and wiped the stray bit of sauce from his face with the back of his sleeve.

"I know. Can't be my kid, their palate isn't nearly as refined"

The men share in a bit of a laugh. Despite, of course, the entire base now being aware of his condition. Thankfully, pretty much everything remained the same. He figured Frank had long stumbled across this little miracle. But was rather surprised with how the soulless nuisance hadn't made a single liverish dig. As pleasant as this was, it was also the most concerning. He and Hot Lips carried on as normal, well, as normal as it could be.

"Where ya gonna put the kid?"

Trapper suddenly inquires as he makes his way over to the still to pour himself a drink. Sure, might have been in poor taste to drink in front of his pregnant friend. But there was no reason he had to stay dry. Hawkeye plops down on the edge of his cot with a sigh. Drowning another poor cookie in the red, sugary condiment.

"Well Christmas is only three months away. With any luck, Santa will grant my wish and Frank will move out"

Trapper laughs.

"Hawk, I think 'hose pregnancy hormones are makin' ya lose touch with reality"

"To be fair, Trap. Anything concerning Frank is a lost sense of reality"

Just as the pregnant Captain was about to delve into his third chocolate wafer treat, and Trap on his second martini. Did the lovely sound of "Incoming Wounded!" permeate their ear canals. Pierce sighs and quickly disposes of the confection before he and Trap make their way to the O.R. He briefly peers down at his stomach, hand gingerly patting the area his child was nestled and lets out a soft chuckle.

"And you let daddy operate in peace. No ketchup Oreos for at least five hours"