"Hawk, we hafta go 'tah Henry 'bout this. He coulda hurt the baby, or you"

Trapper attempted to talk some sense into his friend. This wasn't something that could be overlooked. Finally, Pierce conceded. Per-usual, Blake was hunched over his desk, catching up on all the old golf magazines he had yet to read.

"Henry, we'd like 'ah word with ya"

Trapper's voice was somewhat firm to let the Colonel know he meant business. Henry sighs in annoyance.

"What is it, McIntyre?"

Simultaneously licking his index finger to turn a page. Trapper nudged his friend's shoulder as a cue for him to take over. He swallows, somewhat anxiously.

"Henry, you need to do something about Frank. He went after me at the Swamp, 'an if it weren't for Trapper here he could've seriously hurt the baby"

Blake's eyes widened, no longer was the reading material his top priority. He suddenly clears his throat, disbelief washing over him.

"Th..that really is serious. I'll, uh, make sure he is moved from your tent, effective immediately. Then proceed from there"

It wasn't exactly what either of the men envisioned. However, the fact Frank Burns was no longer living beside them in the same tent was a good start. Even better considering it now gave them room to set up a crib and other essential baby supplies. Henry gave a brief half smile.

"So, how's the little Captain doin'?"

Trapper turned away to try and stifle his chuckling. This in turn, earning him a smack from Pierce.

"Well, when he's not using my bladder as a soccer ball. It's all good"

It seemed so strange to return to the Swamp to see an empty area where Frank's cot used to be. Surely, the next course of action would be court-martial, but ultimately, that decision fell onto Blake and the higher-ups. Hawkeye breathes a sigh of relief and, once again, letting gravity take hold and falls onto his cot. A smile as big as you please plastered across his face.

"You hear that, Trap? (the Captain in turn appears mildly confused)..it's the sweet sound of silence from having Frank Burns banished from our tent"

Trapper lets out a hearty bit of laughter.

"Yeah, I could get use 'tah this"

Just as Trapper was about to fix himself his third martini of the day, Hot Lips rushed through the main door towards Pierce.

"Are you okay? I heard what happened with Frank"

Her words tumbling out in a sort of frenzied panic. He chuckles briefly before trying to get in a sitting position. Even something as simple as that was rather difficult at this stage in his pregnancy.

"Nothin' happened. He's actually been ordered to move to another tent until Henry figures out what to do with him"

Hearing this brought her a sense of ease. With his due date fast approaching, she was like a ball of nerves, but excited nonetheless. She glances around the tent briefly.

"We have to get a crib ordered soon. Can't have the baby sleeping on the ground"

There was a certain glean in Trapper's eye. As if the cogs in his brain were set in motion.

"No need. That's already been taken care of (making his way towards the door, he opens it and shouts) Hey, Radar!"

Hawkeye and Hot Lips look on in confusion. There was no telling what Trap had up his sleeve.

"Here you are, sir. It arrived just a few minutes ago"

Trapper slipped the clerk $5 for his efforts. Though originally this was rather difficult, as Radar refused to take it. However, came around once the subject of comic books were mentioned.

"Thanks Radar"

With that, he hauled the large box inside. The couple still looking on dumbfounded.

"What on Earth is that?"

Margaret finally inquired. Trapper smirked and whipped out his Swiss Army knife to cut away the tape, finally opening the top.

" 'Ah crib. My youngest doesn't need it anymore, figured you could use it"

Something about this ultimate gesture of kindness that turned Hot Lips on. Naturally, of course, she pushed these feelings to the furthest regions of her brain.

"Trap, ya didn't have to do that. Thank you"

Hawkeye smiled. Margaret worked in a quick hug and words of gratitude for the much-needed piece of furniture. Apparently, he and his wife had this in the works for quite some time. Before she could disassemble it and the pieces make their nearly 7,000 mile journey to South Korea. Trapper laughs a bit.

" 'An I don't want ya tryin' to put this together. We can handle it"

Ever since he became pregnant, Trapper became unnecessarily overboard with his helping, smothering even. As if Hawkeye hadn't an ounce of independence for himself. He gives a bit of an irritated growl under his breath.

"Trap, I'm pregnant. Not disabled. I think I can handle puttin' together a crib"

The instant the somewhat flippant response left his lips, he regretted it. The Captain's face dropped, as if he and his wife's efforts were suddenly nothing. He gives a brief snort. Before he left the Surgeon to his own devices, Margaret wedged herself in-between to try and defuse the situation.

"I'm sure he didn't mean for it to come out that way. How about he just hands us the nuts and bolts and we still handle putting it up?"

He sat for a moment, as if in deep thought before giving a "hmm" in response. A crooked smile was soon pulling at the corners of his mouth, before he and Margaret exchange a sort of jocular handshake.

"'Ight, ya got yerself a deal"

About ten to fifteen minutes pass before the crib is finally assembled. A beautiful, solid oak. The three smile and clink their martini glasses in triumph. Only, the Surgeon's was filled with orange juice. He takes a sip and looks upon it proudly.

"Now all that's missin' is 4077's little medico"