It was just something they did, now… in between surgery and drinking and chasing the various nurses, they had a tendency to move towards each other. It was just another flirtation. Just something else they did.

They'd woken up wrapped up in each other once or twice, when Frank Burns was AWOL/with Margaret/on R 'n' R, and once, disturbingly, it had happened when the other surgeon was there. They'd both kept their heads, separating before Frank woke up, but it had rattled them.

Which wasn't precisely true. Very little rattled a man who had been cheating on his wife since his first day in Korea, but it rattled Hawkeye. He wondered what Trapper's wife would think of this. He wondered, while already being in a vaguely compromising position. It was very early in the morning to be awake, he knew, but how could he help being awake, lying luxuriously on the same cot as his best friend?

They were more wrapped up in each other than ever this morning, arms, legs and even fingers hopelessly entwined. Hawkeye moved, and Trapper moved with him, but didn't wake up. His face buried in Trapper's hair, lying in warmth and in comfort as he never did in the Swamp, Hawkeye was suddenly assailed by a pair of emotions he hadn't felt for quite some time.

If jealousy is a green-eyed monster, what's guilt?

He tried to crush the thought, ignore it into going away, but to no avail. He hadn't expected to succeed. These dangerous, pricking thoughts had been lurking around the edge of consciousness for as long as he and Trapper…

He didn't want to go down that road, but it seemed he must. Already it was costing him sleep; what time could it possibly be? He wasn't wearing a watch, and couldn't see it even if he had been wearing once, but he could see dimly the colour of the sky through the sides of the tent. It was still dark in this part of Korea, though that didn't mean much in the winter months, he reflected. But the silence told him the same story, much more eloquently. It had to be early, for a M*A*S*H unit to be silent.

Suddenly seized with a dangerous thought, Hawkeye's eyes flickered towards where the Swamp's third occupant usually lay in state. The cot was empty. Hawkeye couldn't at this moment remember where he was, but he was grateful.

He was tired. So, so tired… had they been in surgery the night before? He couldn't quite remember, but he was so tired, and yet he couldn't sleep. He was being held awake against his will. He wanted to stop thinking…

Somehow he knew the only way he would ever get any sleep would be to coldly and dispassionately extricate himself from Trapper's sleepy hold, carefully walk the three steps over to his own cot, lie down and put the pillow over his head. He would be cold and he would be lonely, but he might be free…

It was the right thing to do. The moral thing, though generally he scorned the redneck connotations of that word. Whatever it was exactly, he had to do it. Gently, he moved Trapper over, making him release his hold, letting the cold air rush into their haven. He swung his legs over the edge of the cot, stood up, and tried not to hear as Trapper reached out for him, mumbling, "Hawk?"

Hawkeye shivered. "Go back to sleep," he whispered.

Trapper didn't. The loss of body heat had woken him up thoroughly. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night? I thought better of you, Hawkeye," he said, with the familiar touch of humour.

Hawkeye didn't say anything. It had just occurred to him that was exactly what he was doing. Sneaking away.…

Trapper reached out with one warm hand and grabbed one of Hawkeye's, which were now cold and getting colder. "Come back," he murmured. "It's cold…"

Hawkeye didn't move. "I can't," he said helplessly. "I can't."

Trapper was sleepily puzzled. "What do you mean, you can't?" And pulling on Hawkeye's hand, he added, "Come back!"

"Let me go!" Hawkeye snatched his hand away and perched himself on the end of the cot, as far away from Trapper as possible. He was still shivering.

"Hawkeye, if this whole situation is so repellent to you, just say so!" Trapper snapped, uncharacteristically angry. Hawkeye tried not to look at him, but his words demanded eye contact, and as usual the atmosphere became electric as their eyes met. Trapper was smouldering. Hawkeye shuddered slightly, rocking back and forth, looking at the ground, waiting for the wave of fury to wash over him.

They were still close together, on the same cot, but at opposite ends. Hawkeye was sitting on it, Trapper was standing at the end of it, and they smouldered, glaring at each other, waiting for the other one to give in and look away.

Hawkeye dropped his eyes first. He could be said to be in the wrong, and trapped there, he refused to back down.

Suddenly, Trapper sat heavily beside the other doctor, and sighed. A glance at him told Hawkeye his anger had burnt out. Trapper noticed the glance. "I hate you," he said softly.

"Me, too," Hawkeye replied. It wasn't clear whom he hated; perhaps it didn't matter.

"This is wrong," Trapper said abruptly. He was frustrated now, not angry. "I thought you of all people would stick with me."

"Trapper," Hawkeye said clearly, "do you understand what we're doing here? Really, do you? If we're ever caught, do you know what will happen?"

"We'll get thrown out of the army," Trapper said dispassionately.

"There's a difference between getting all your points and a dishonourable discharge, Trapper."

"Since when do you care about all this army crap, anyway?" Trapper demanded, with a brief flash of anger.

"Trap, listen to me." Hawkeye was more serious than Trapper had ever seen him. "If we're caught, we'll be branded for life. Do you know what kind of stigma there is attached to this? And that's besides…"

"Besides what?"

A pause.

"Besides what, Hawkeye?"

"You're married, Trap. Just think of the consequences for one moment. If we're ever caught… "

Trapper thought. And then… "We'll still have each other."

Hawkeye gazed at him sadly, and suddenly the air was charged with tension again. The silence stretched a minute before Trapper broke it. "Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye didn't say anything.

Trapper stood up. "And that's it," he said flatly. "I'd give up everything for you, but you…"

The sentence remained unfinished.

"I'm trying to save you," Hawkeye said, clearly and sincerely. "We've nearly been caught once already. I don't think it should happen again."

"And how do you plan to do that?" Trapper demanded. "Never lay hands on each other again?"

"If that's what it takes."

Trapper had expected an angry rebuttal, and he turned slowly towards Hawkeye, trying to keep his voice calm. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes."

Trapper stared at him. "You're nuts. No, wait, I'm nuts. I'm nuts to let you play with me like this."

"Trapper!" Hawkeye was painfully sincere. "I'm trying to save you!"

"You said that before! Who are you trying to save me from?"

"Me, Trap! You think I want to do this? You think I want to have to do this to you? It's a straightforward choice! Either this, or being caught in flagrante with a guy. And don't tell me you don't know what's likely to happen."

This time, Trapper didn't say anything. He walked slowly across the Swamp, considered settling on Hawkeye's cot, but decided he couldn't do it. Returning to his own side of the tent, he sat beside his friend. Their hands brushed together, but neither commented on it.

Trapper sighed. He was suddenly exhausted. He lay back on the cot, inclining his head so he could still see his companion, who was watching him impassively.

"I never fucked you, Hawkeye," Trapper murmured. "Never. And I wouldn't. Not unless…"

The sentence remained unfinished. Suddenly becoming aware of how early it was, and how tired he was, Hawkeye had lain back on top of him. The physical contact served to diffuse the tension, like a lightning conductor or an earth wire.

"What time is it?" Hawkeye whispered.

"About four-thirty…" Trapper's voice was muffled.

"How long before we have to actually be awake?"

"Couple of hours at least…"

There was more silence, but it wasn't charged with electricity any more. Not so much, anyway.

"I couldn't really do it," Hawkeye said, more to himself than to Trapper. "I did my best…"

"Do what?"

"Break… no. Doesn't matter."

"It's cold…" Trapper whispered, his voice still muffled.

"Yeah…"

They were entwined again, and both sinking languorously into each other's body heat. They fell asleep within minutes of each other, just like many times before, and as the sun rose and the wartorn land began to grow warmer, they moved with each other, holding each other in sleep. Trapper's dogtags were curled around Hawkeye's fingers, and in sleep he clung to them with clenched fists. They were to wake within minutes of each other, but it was Hawkeye who woke first.

He blinked at the sudden intrusion of dazzling sunlight in the tent. The door was open. In the doorway stood Frank Burns, watching them with an expression of utter delight on his face.