The poker players hid their amusement with varying degrees of success. Surprisingly, it was Father Mulcahy who spoke first. "Hard day, my son?" he inquired.

Frank made a strangulated sort of noise, went to his cot, and refused to answer any further inquiries. All of those present save one laughed into their hands.

After a moment, when the initial amusement had faded, they ignored him, for as Henry put it, he was just so ignorable.

"Who folds?" Trapper inquired.

"I do," Sidney said.

"Me," Klinger added.

"Not me," Trapper said. With a flourish, he laid his cards on the table one by one. "Seven… ace… queen… king… and king."

Away in his corner, Hawkeye murmured something. No-one really noticed.

Henry laid his cards down in quiet resignation. "Too good for me."

"What about you, Radar?" Trapper asked.

"Oh, I got two pair…" Radar began.

Trapper relaxed.

"…twice."

"Twice? Twice?"

Four tens stared accusingly out at him. "Two pair twice?" Trapper yelled.

"There's people asleep in here, Captain," Igor warned him, but Trapper was sufficiently aggravated not to care. The sight of Radar gathering together his newly won loot did not help any.

"I deal, I believe," Sidney said, and added, "Don't worry, Trapper, you're a gambler and already psychologically damaged enough without need of further humiliation." He took one of Trapper's five-dollar chips. "House call."

Trapper groaned.

In the corner, Hawkeye echoed the groan, and this time they noticed. Trapper was the first to get up to take a look at him, and Sidney took note.

"How long's it been?" Trapper asked, looking at Henry.

"About six hours," Henry said. "I don't think he's coming out of it, he's early."

"He's never been exactly predictable," Trapper replied matter-of-factly, and sat heavily down besides Hawkeye, who appeared to have sunk back into sleep.

"It'll be a while, Trap," Sidney called. "Come back, we need your money."

Reluctantly, Trapper returned to the pool of light in the centre of the tent. "Who's dealing?"

"Me," Sidney said. "You ought to listen to people sometimes, it's good for your mental health."

"Are we playing or are we in therapy?" asked Ugly John, who had been uncharacteristically quiet so far.

"We're playing," said Trapper determinedly, and with a glance at Hawkeye, settled down to the serious business of losing money.

Hawkeye finally regained consciousness some nine hours after his initial pinprick. The game was just finishing and the players thereof were departing unsteadily homewards, with more alcohol in their bloodstreams and less money in their pockets than there had been before, with the sole and obvious exception of Father Mulcahy. Trapper was the first to notice, and he was close by when Hawkeye sat up and began to rub his eyes.

"What happened?" he asked drowsily. "Did I miss anything?"

"No," said Trapper, who was falling asleep.

"Not a thing," Sidney added, in an advanced state of somnambulism.

"Good," said Hawkeye, and blinked. "Sidney? When did you get here?"

"About eight hours ago," the psychiatrist replied, watching with interest the way Trapper and Hawkeye had already moved towards each other. Hawkeye's head was resting on Trapper's shoulder, and Trapper seemed to be holding the other doctor with a comfortable ease that bespoke of long familiarity.

"You know," said Sidney slowly, "I've made quite a few conclusions today."

"He's had the notebook out," Trapper told Hawkeye, who nodded sleepily.

"Conclusions," Sidney repeated, "mostly about you two and the way you interact."

"Ah," said Hawkeye, sleepy but amused. "Anything of interest, doctor?"

"Yes," Sidney said, "and I know that according to military protocol I'm not supposed to ask this question…"

Radar skidded in, glasses half falling off, teddy bear still in his arms. "Choppers!"

A conditioned burst of adrenaline cancelled out the remnants of the sedative; Hawkeye was on his feet at the same exact moment as Trapper. Radar sped off, and as he did so they heard the sound of helicopter blades slicing through cold night air. It was a full moon; just enough light for them to fly.

"Stick around, Sidney, you're scrubbing up!" Hawkeye cried and was gone, his red robe flying out behind him as he darted through the door and crossed the suddenly busy compound.

Trapper and Sidney Freedman followed at a slightly less breakneck pace. "Are you sure he's quite sane?" Sidney asked, pointing at Hawkeye, flying forwards some distance in front of them.

"Don't ask me," Trapper said breathlessly, running, "you're the expert."

"On Hawkeye?" Sidney asked. "I think not, Trapper. I think you know Hawkeye very, very well indeed, in far more detail than I ever will."

They didn't have time to talk any more. For the next few hours they knew nothing but blood and shining surgical steel, and after the latest deluge was over, Trapper slept well and Hawkeye not so well.

The next week, Sidney Freedman came up again from Seoul for the weekly Swamp poker game, but he didn't ask and they didn't tell. Aurora was awake that time.

The End.

Yes, finally reached the end. Thanks for reading, and thanks to all the reviewers – I much appreciate it.