BJ sat on the end of Hawkeye's bed. The dark haired captain was staring at the ceiling and didn't seem to notice him.

"Hawk? You there?" he asked softly. His friend looked down at him as if suddenly registering his presence.

"Oh… hi Beej. That was quick, wasn't it? No food for you?" he said, suddenly talking loudly and brightly, and propping himself up on his elbows.

"You seemed off in your own little world, then, Hawk. You still feel shocky at all?" BJ reached for the torch in his pocket, but Hawkeye held up a hand.

"No, I'm fine, Beej. Fine, honestly. Did you come back for some sleep?"

BJ pulled his hand out of his pocket and got up to go and sit on Hawkeye's footlocker.

"No, Hawk. I came to talk."

"Sure, BJ. What's your problem?"

"It's your problem, Hawkeye."

"Who, me? That's a joke. Here's me, stuck ill in the middle of this hell hole of Korea, but I swear none of us has any problems!"

"Hawkeye, stop getting irate! Please? I'm serious here." Hawkeye lay back again.

"Okay. Sure. What's my problem this time, then, Doc?"

"I want to know what really happened, Hawkeye. Between you and Margaret, that night."

"Heh, nothing happened, BJ, what do you take me for?"

"I take you for a man who's been hurt, Hawkeye. I'm not blind, you know! Listen, I've seen the way Margaret ignores you whenever you're awake, and the way you're so subdued when she's around. But you're happy to see her, and whether you know it or not she's actually damn concerned for you. You getting this?"

Hawkeye nodded slowly, still not quite comprehending what his friend was saying.

"Furthermore, I know there was an argument. You said yourself that there was nothing to be impressed about in you, and you've been acting even more 'Hawkeye' since you properly came round. I can see you withdrawing, Hawk, and I don't like it," said BJ, modulating his tone and saying more gently. "I want to know, what's the deal?"

Hawkeye was silent for a long while. BJ could almost see the thoughts whipping loose around his friend's mind.

"Look, BJ, it's been a long day. I've been ill, and I'm sure you don't want to be fussed with… with me and my – damn problems."

The last words were almost stuttered out, and Hawkeye turned on his side away from his friend. BJ sat there a while longer, then quietly left the Swamp.

"Major? Major Houlihan?" said BJ, poking his head round the door affably. Margaret looked up in surprise at the doctor. "What's up, Hunnicutt?" she asked, tucking the pencil behind her ear.

"Oh, nothing," replied BJ, still smiling amiably. "When do you get off shift?"

Margaret looked oddly at him. "In about an hour and a half, why?"

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to you a while. Nothing important – well, maybe a little."

"How long will it take?"

"Oh, I don't know. Not long."

Margaret glanced at Colonel Potter, who was just finishing his rounds. He nodded.

"Go right ahead, Major. Don't be far though, in case I need you."

"I'll be just outside," replied Margaret, following BJ outside.

BJ pulled Margaret round to the far side of the Post-Op ward.

"Hey! We can't go far!" said Margaret, protesting and shaking her arm out of his grip. "What was it you wanted to say anyway?"

BJ leant against a crate.

"Margaret, I wanted to know if you were ever going to talk to Hawkeye. After all, with all his damn problems he's feeling a little low at the moment."

Margaret went white and her eyes narrowed. "It's none of your business, Hunnicutt," she said shortly, turning away. How could he have known that was what she felt worst about!

"Look, Margaret," said BJ hurrying round to face her again, "I know – believe me, I've seen it! - that Hawkeye really cares about your opinions. And I know that you've been ignoring him for a reason. What did he say? Was he just rude and insensitive? I'm sure you've been hurt too, Margaret. Please…. Just talk to him?"

BJ's pleading and concerned tone crept into Margaret's consciousness and she felt mean and heartless all over again. Her eyes filled with tears.

"But, but…" she managed to say, barely keeping the trembling from her voice.

BJ looked at her, sympathy and concern in his eyes.

"But I was such a jerk!" she wailed, clenching her fists and turning away so he would not see her cry. "How can I go back and face him, knowing what I've said! And I'm so sorry – so sorry - "

"Margaret, I'm not the one you need to tell," said BJ, putting his hand on her shaking shoulder.

"But – I can't! How can I face him?" said Margaret, turning her tear-ravaged face towards him suddenly.

"Listen to me, Margaret. You are without doubt one of the bravest people I know. I'm sure you can talk to him," said BJ in a firm but gentle voice. "I know I've only just come off shift, but I'll do what I can if you want to go now."

Margaret stood there, torn in indecision. Suddenly she nodded and started walking swiftly off, as if she would change her mind any minute.

BJ sighed, and walked back inside Post-Op. The Colonel looked a little puzzled, but BJ explained that Major Houlihan would be back soon, there was just something she had to attend to.

"Well, as long as you fill in for her for a while," said Colonel Potter absently, finishing a chart with a flourish. BJ wandered over and sat down. He fished a photo of Peg out of his top pocket, and sat there for a long while, just staring. Why did he have to get mixed up in others' problems? Because that's the kind of man you are, he seemed to hear his wife say. He smiled, his mind a thousand miles ago in a little place called Mill Valley.

A faint knocking came at the door of the Swamp, where the red rays of the almost set sun was staining everything a rich rose. Hawkeye didn't turn over.

"If that's you again, BJ, I don't want to talk," he said irritably.

"It – it's Margaret," came a hesitant voice. Hawkeye scrambled up on his elbows and stared at the door. She'd come to see him?

He suddenly remembered to say come in. Margaret pushed open the door. She was still wearing her Post-Op coat, and Hawkeye could see she had been crying.

"Hey Margaret, what's up?" he said, concerned. At his tone of voice Margaret almost broke down again. Despite his waving towards a chair, she remained standing.

"I just came – to say how sorry I am. For shouting at you, and for ignoring you, when all you did was support me." She struggled over the words, and she looked at him desperately, hoping that he would accept her apology. Half of her was screaming that she had done what she had sworn not to – to let her feelings show – and half of her was searching for some scrap of reassurance, the weaker girl inside the strong woman that the whole camp knew. Hawkeye patted the locker beside him.

"Sit down, Margaret," he said quietly, sitting up properly in his bunk. The major sat down as if she had just taken a step into the unknown.

Hawkeye studied her face for a moment, his heart beating faster and his eyes trying to take in all her features as if to commit them to memory forever.

"Margaret. Margaret, I… I should be sorry. I've been an irresponsible fool, and a dishonest one. You have an upstanding character, and are the strongest person I know. It – means a lot to me to hear you apologise – to me! – I scarcely deserve it. Just to know that you really are the woman I know, who is so understanding in everything she does."

Hawkeye was surprised to hear that it was himself he heard speaking. Un-Hawkeye like phrases slipped from his tongue like a foreign language. He shook his head a little.

"What more can I say than thank you," he finished, looking for some recognition in her face. At first she was as still as a statue, then a smile broke across her face. Hawkeye found himself grinning too, idiotically almost.

"I'm glad you understand," whispered Margaret.

Suddenly her head swivelled round as Charles opened the Swamp door, whistling slightly with a newspaper under his arm. He looked over at the head nurse, who was staring at the floor, and then at Pierce who was staring at him with an almost challenging look.

"Hello there Pierce, been removed from the ward I see?" he said amiably, breaking the tension in the room neatly but without rancour.

"The doctor decided I could rest at home this evening," said Hawkeye, leaning back on his pillow. Margaret got to her feet.

"I really must go, poor BJ is doing my duty at the moment," said Margaret, her hand on the door. "And, Hawkeye?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you." She smiled and left.

"Thanks for what?" inquired Charles, yawning and getting out his unfinished letter.

"Oh, nothing," said Hawkeye, a grin still spread across his face.

Attention all personnel! Report to Triage for your daily dose of the war…

"I can't believe we've only just emptied Post-Op, and bingo, another lot," complained BJ bitterly, leaving his patient to Margaret and running over to the next jeep. Hawkeye looked up from another soldier.

"I know… it's not right," he said, shaking his head as he carefully covered the face of the soldier he was looking at. "This one's for Father Mulcahy now, get going," he said, a tired look on his face as he jumped up and dashed over to the next one.

"Damn, this guy's bleeding a lot. Bad chest wounds. He'd better go second, after that head wound," he ordered, waving him away. Looking up he started investigating the shoulder of the next soldier. The latter looked curiously at the doctor examining him, his voice a little vague.

 "Hey, been in a war someplace, Doc?" he asked, using his other arm to point at the almost healed stitches across Hawkeye's brow.

"No, no, I just got into a fight with a cupboard. They're vicious things you know," replied Hawkeye, grinning slightly whilst replacing the dressing swiftly. He nodded to the orderly. "Not so bad, see when you can slot him in," he said, dusting his hands and looking around the compound. The chaos was becoming more ordered, slowly, and he could see both the Colonel and Charles leaning over one soldier, their voices fraught as they sorted him out. Shaking his head, he checked there were no more casualties that weren't dealt with. BJ caught his shoulder as he headed over towards the remaining scene.

"The Colonel says go scrub," the captain said, steering his friend over towards the OR. "And if you feel a bit woozy or anything, call one of us over to give you a hand."

"Beej, I told you I'm fine," protested Hawkeye. From behind him he heard a whoop that had to be from Colonel Potter, and he smiled. Looks like they worked that one out just fine.

The session turned out to be longer then expected. About three hours in, all the available personnel were called out for another group, this time much larger. The clock seemed to slow down to a crawl, hours passing and the day ticking past. The surgeons took breaks where they could; Hawkeye refused any help, saying he was just fine, no-one worry. It was too busy for him not to be.

When they finally escaped, the next morning was well advanced, and everyone was dog-tired. The two captains fell asleep in the Swamp almost immediately. Well, Hawkeye did. Keeping his eyes open just a little longer, BJ quietly checked on his friend. His colour wasn't good, he decided, but I'm sure sleep will be the best remedy. And talking of sleep… BJ staggered back to his own bunk and collapsed on top of it. It had been a looong day.

The war goes on…

Klinger hesitated before shaking awake Captain Hunnicutt. It seemed such a shame… but the Colonel did say.

"Klinger! What the hell do you call this time!" whispered BJ fiercely, turning over in his bunk. "I'm not moving until I've had at least ten hours sleep!"

"Settle for half?" said Klinger, raising his hands helplessly before going over to Hawkeye's bed. Suddenly he looked back.

"I said wake up, Captain!" he said to BJ, as the doctor seemed inanimate.

"I don't care what you say!" retorted the latter, putting his pillow over his head.

"You care what I do though," came the Colonel's voice. He was standing by the netting wall, himself sandy-eyed, peering inside. BJ starting muttering under his breath and began to get up.

"WHAT time do you call this Klinger?! It's still the afternoon!" an irate voice came from Hawkeye's direction. Colonel Potter called out.

"Relax, Pierce. I just want you to affix your John Hancock to a piece of paper for us. I'm afraid, Hunnicutt, that -" he said, turning to face BJ. Hawkeye grabbed the pencil from Klinger's hand and scribbled on the meekly proffered paper.

 " – they want an extra doctor down at the 8063rd again," continued the Colonel, "they also asked specifically for Captain Pierce and Major Houlihan. Now, I'm not allowing Hawkeye out for a while, and besides, I need the chief surgeon here. I'm sending you and Margaret down instead. And - "

BJ opened his mouth to protest, but Hawkeye got there first.

"I'm not an invalid, you know! And they specifically asked for me!" he said, sitting up in his bunk and scrabbling for his robe.

Colonel Potter continued as if he hadn't heard. " – and that's why I got Pierce to sign a letter to the CO explaining his absence."

"Give me that," growled Hawkeye, grabbing for the paper before Klinger quickly nipped out of the door again. "BJ! You don't want to go! They want the chief surgeon!"

BJ quickly changed what he was about to reply. "You heard the man, Hawk, he's in charge," he said resignedly, picking around the room for his clothes.

"Beej! I'm not an invalid! Let me do my job!" appealed Hawkeye to his best friend. BJ just shrugged with a sorry expression on his face.

"Try and get some more sleep, Hawk."

"Like the rest of us," came a tart but muffled voice from Charles's bunk.

Hawkeye paced the dark compound moodily. They were always cosseting him! It's damn stitches! And I've managed the same shifts as everyone else, there's nothing wrong with me! To hell with their 'go back to sleep, Hawkeye'. He kicked a stone and sent it spinning across the ground towards the dimly lit motor pool.

Little did he know that the Colonel had not sent BJ for that reason alone. Potter had his reasons; he knew that the 8063rd had bugged out just before a deluge of wounded – to a cave.

As Klinger came round the corner holding a sheaf of reports, Hawkeye shifted into step behind the clerk.

"So, Klinger, what ya up to?" he said ingratiatingly. Klinger threw a surprised look over his shoulder.

"Paperwork, sir. It's what I normally do. Remember, I got some sleep during that OR session. Unlike you," said Klinger, jerking his head towards the captain. Hawkeye threw his hands up in the air.

"Jeez, is everyone appointed my personal nursemaid?" he appealed annoyed to the sky, before turning irritated blue eyes on the Lebanese. "Anyway, Klinger – you any idea where the 8063rd is at the moment?"

"Classified information, Captain Pierce," said Klinger, cringing in anticipation of his rebuke. Turning round after a few seconds he saw the back of Hawkeye as he stalked off.

A jeep came rattling into the night- time compound about an hour later. Charles, Hawkeye and Colonel Potter came out, surprised to see a man driving two wounded.

"What's going on here?" asked Colonel Potter, as he quickly started assessing his patient. "Why weren't these taken through Battalion Aid?" For the soldiers were completely untended. The driver pushed back his helmet from a dirt-smudged face.

"Found them on the side of the road to the eighty sixty third. As far as I can make out, there must be snipers or something around there. Anyway, sir, I knew that MASH unit was full to bursting, so I brought them back here."

The doctors and a few others were quickly shifting the wounded two inside. Colonel Potter placed a brief hand on the driver's shoulder.

"You did good, son. Get some food and sleep now, ask Corporal Klinger for where." The CO smiled and then hurried after his patients.

"It's no good, sir, we're going to have to put them in the VIP tent, there's simply no more room in Post-Op!" said Nurse Kellye, turning helplessly around in the middle of the ward. "I'll send someone over there to sort it out, sir. Will it do?"

"Have to, under the circumstances," said Potter grimly. With the number of wounded in this area and the 8063rd, this was turning into no picnic of a police action. And he couldn't get on the phone to that unit because of the bug-out. Damn and double damn! When would he get his doctor and nurse back? First thing in the morning, he decided, he would send someone up there to check it out.

Hawkeye, wearing his Post-Op coat and carrying a clipboard, strode grimly away from the VIP tent the next morning. Those two confirmed it; sniper activity and the 8063rd had bugged out. He was worried sick, he admitted to himself; what if Margaret and Beej… he suddenly was surprised to see a yawning Klinger revving a jeep. He grabbed the corporal's shoulder.

"Where are you going, Klinger?"

"To the eighty… I mean to pick up some heater parts, sir!" said Klinger, shaking off his sleep suddenly and inwardly wincing as he heard himself speak.

"The 8063rd? Right. You just got yourself a passenger," said Hawkeye, striding round the jeep and getting in. "Drive, Klinger!"

"No! I mean, I mustn't, you see, Col…"

"Klinger, pretend I didn't hear that," pleaded Hawkeye. "I've got to find out about Margaret and BJ! Just go, quick, we won't be long, will we…"

Klinger bit his lip and rested his hand on the wheel. The tone of Hawkeye's voice… almost convinced him.

"What about your patients, sir?" he asked suddenly, not wanting to be responsible for anything.

"I just came off shift.  Now please, Klinger, go! Just say it was my direct order under pain of death or something, I promise to take all the blame," said Hawkeye earnestly, searching the Lebanese corporal's face. Klinger sighed.

"All right. But I'm just a flunky here, okay?" he said, pulling off the handbrake and accelerating out of the compound.

"Klinger, I could hug you if you weren't driving," exclaimed Hawkeye, struggling out of his white coat and reaching for a helmet in the back. Jamming it on his head, they set off in the morning sunlight. He'd soon see her again…

The jeep rattled through the empty compound of the 8063rd as Klinger turned down a side road. Hawkeye turned round in his seat, a very confused and slightly horrified look on his face.

"Klinger – where the hell are they?"

"It's not far away, sir," replied Klinger, fixing his eyes on the newly churned up road ahead. "That's why they needed the extra surgeons – apparently operating is a little difficult in a cave."

Hawkeye's face blanched and unwelcome memories flooded back of his recent internment in the dark, enclosing cupboard. He swallowed and put his hand on the front of the dashboard. He hadn't been like this in years! He could normally cope with big caves, he was better… he shook his head and tried to think like Sidney. It was probably the cupboard that was scaring him now. Not the cave. Yes, that was right.

In the busy creek bottoms by the cliff bottom, the jeep finally collapsed to a halt. Hawkeye got out and took off his helmet, grabbing for the arm of the corpsman hurrying past.

"Excuse me, I'm Captain Pierce, here to see your CO. Or better still, Captain Hunnicutt. You know where I can find them?" he said, keeping step with the man as he walked past. The latter waved a vague hand towards a few tents set up outside the mouth of the largest cave. Hawkeye smiled briefly and turned to Klinger.

"I'm just going to find them, okay? You stay with the jeep?"

"Hey, Colonel Potter sent me to check," objected Klinger, leaning over the wheel to stare at Hawkeye.

"I knew I could count on you," replied the captain, clapping the disgruntled clerk on the shoulder before hurrying eagerly over towards the tents, where someone had hammered a crude signpost that stated POST OP.

"Gee, from one shift to another," said Hawkeye to himself, poking his head inside. He looked at the nurse passing papers to a harried looking man who had to be the clerk.

"Um, could you tell me were to find the CO, Cathy?" he asked, smiling engagingly at the brown-haired nurse who he had met last time. He grinned to himself. There was no harm in using a little charm to find out about the people he cared about more than anything.

The nurse looked up and blushed a little, before smiling at him boldly. "Why, Hawkeye, I thought you were ill… I was so disappointed to find that clean-cut captain they sent instead of you." She laughed prettily. Hawkeye inwardly groaned. He'd forgotten that about her.

"Much as I'd love to stay and talk, Cathy, I really gotta find the CO?"

"Further inside, where the wards are. Believe me, it's damn full in there right now. Perhaps you'd like to come and find some coffee afterwards?" she grinned hopefully. But Hawkeye was already gone.

Margaret tilted the chart under the light and narrowed her eyes as she stared at the figures in front of her.

"Right, Parker, put this boy back on 10 % D and W. I don't like the way he's heading."

"Yes, Major," complied the nurse. Margaret sighed. She hardly knew anyone here, and the conditions were awful. She glanced back from under the yellow, temperamental lamp towards the afternoon light from the cave mouth. Suddenly a familiar silhouette appeared, indecisively hovering at the entrance. She hurried over, a huge smile breaking across her face.

"Hawkeye! What are you doing here?" she asked, taking his arm and dragging him unresistingly outside again. Her face suddenly changed again, the beam replaced with an anxious look. "Everything's okay, back at the 4077th?"

Hawkeye took a deep breath and smiled back down at her. "No, it's just a little full. The Colonel wanted to know when he was getting his personnel back, so I came to find you." He turned to face her, holding her arm still.

"You're okay? Has there been much shooting or shelling round here?" he asked, concern showing in his eyes.

"Well, we've heard it, but no-one's been hit," said Margaret, a little puzzled. Then a thought struck her. "Hawkeye – about you not going…. BJ went instead because – we knew the 8063rd had bugged out to a cave. Not because we thought you were ill."

"Just too much of a chicken to work under pressure."
"No! Look, I'm serious, Hawkeye." She reached up and ran her fingers thoughtfully over his stitches. Hawkeye froze under her innocent gesture, and she suddenly pulled her hand back and looked away before continuing. "Your head wound is healing nicely, we just thought maybe just this once BJ should go."
Hawkeye grinned slightly, his skin still tingling from her touch. "Talking of Beej, where is he?" He looked back into the yawning cave mouth for a moment before facing the outside again quickly.

"BJ is in the OR at the moment. Routine few operations still going through, because several soldiers weren't tended to properly in the panic to move out."

Hawkeye nodded.

"Well, Klinger and I are here with a jeep. If the CO can spare you, we need you back at the 4077th."

"I'll go and ask now," said Margaret immediately.

"Hey, I'm the one to be asking," objected Hawkeye.

"Hawkeye, your only excuse of not being here is you're supposed to be laid up with a head wound. Let me tell you, the CO wasn't too happy about getting Hunnicutt and not you as he required."

"Well, who cares?" said Hawkeye, raising his voice slightly.

"I for one don't want Colonel Potter getting into trouble," hissed Margaret," so stay out, Pierce."

Hawkeye rolled his eyes and went back to the jeep.

BJ threw his scrubs across the top of the screen that separated the few tables that were supposed to be the OR. The chief surgeon of the 8063rd came over and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Glad you could help us out here," he said, smiling warmly at BJ, who grinned tiredly.

"Do you know when we're getting back to our own unit?" he asked in return.

"Hey, we're not that repulsive, are we?" protested the major, looking mock hurt.

"Naw, I'm just missing my own bed, you know? And my wife's letters…" said BJ, walking over to where he left his jacket. Truth was, he also missed working in the kind of relaxed atmosphere he normally did, and it made him more nervous about his work. He looked up to Margaret walking over to them, a faint grin on her face.

"Hey, Major Houlihan! Any news?" he asked wearily. Also having to be more formal was kinda telling too.

"Captain, I've been informed we can get ready to leave. There's a driver waiting for us, so if you'd like to pack now…" she left it hanging. BJ jumped to his feet.

"I guess that's my cue to leave, Major," he said, turning and clasping the surgeon's hand in a brief handshake.

"No problem, it's been great working with you, Hunnicutt. Send my regards to your friend Captain Pierce too, won't you?" the man replied sincerely. BJ nodded in return and then went deeper into the cave to find the cot he had been assigned to. Margaret followed, her bag already swinging from her hand.

"Come on, hurry up," she said impatiently in a low tone. "I had to do some fast talking to the CO to get us to leave in the first place." BJ looked up surprised from stashing his spare uniform.

"Why, wasn't it him who said?"

"Klinger turned up to ask whether we would be getting back soon, so I said we would try and oblige," grinned Margaret.

"That scoundrel!" laughed BJ. "Come on, let's go." Picking up his bag he followed the major out into the open, blinking at the bright light. The pair hurried past the official tents, towards the dusty jeep that had circled and was running its engine impatiently. A figure lounging in the back of it turned and waved at them.

"Hey, Hawk!" said BJ delightedly, but then narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing here? What's up?"

"Nothing, nothing! Colonel Potter wanted his personnel back, and I'd heard reports of sniper activity up here. No phones? So I couldn't just ring…"

BJ chucked his bag into the back and jumped in after it. Hawkeye solemnly offered him a hat, and BJ chuckled at jammed it on.

"I'm telling you, even under these conditions, this place is far too stuffy for me," BJ stated in a low tone as Klinger started the jeep. Margaret turned round from her seat in the front.

"I know what you mean," she said fervently. Somehow, without Hawkeye's constant witticisms, the trip hadn't been one of her favourites. Okay, she had BJ, but he just wasn't the same. She swivelled back round in her seat abruptly. The two captains shrugged and started talking again as the jeep pulled up into the deserted camp once more.

*********************************************************************

Hawkeye opened his eyes from where he was resting them against the heat of the sun. Looking around, he saw that BJ was snoring, his long legs cramped into the small space in the back. Margaret was staring out at nothing, and Klinger was whistling jauntily to himself as he drove. Tipping back his helmet, Hawkeye wriggled upright a little more to see the surrounding countryside.

A whine sliced through the air, and suddenly shots were heard rattling through the air. BJ sat up so suddenly his helmet fell off, and Klinger floored the accelerator. Confusion reigned; everyone in the jeep started talking at once, until they were suddenly interrupted by a stifled scream from Margaret. As she clamped her hand over her arm, both she and BJ were almost thrown out of the swerving jeep. Another shot hit the tyre with a loud bang, and the jeep slithered to halt halfway up a bank.

"Margaret!" said Hawkeye, leaning forward to grab her arm. She looked round, her face pale and blood streaking her face where she had bitten through her lip. Klinger beside her suddenly pushed her sideways. "Get down!" he said fiercely, scrambling out of the jeep as four North Koreans broke out of cover ahead of them.

A fast, furious jabber of Korean halted the four of them in their tracks. BJ slowly clambered to his feet outside the truck where he had fallen, putting his hands above his head. The others followed suit rapidly, Margaret only making it halfway there as her upper arm refused to move, a dark stain spreading across her jacket sleeve. She threw a desperate look at Hawkeye as they were gestured forward with rapid gun movements.

"Look, we're doctors, see?" said BJ in as much as a placatory tone as he could. "See the red cross? It's not a target spot, it means something!"

The soldiers exchanged uneasy looks, and then one stepped forwards and gave a curt order. The four Americans fell hurriedly into step, marched down the road, their arms still upraised. Suddenly Margaret stumbled, and would have fallen, but Hawkeye moved forward swiftly to hold her up. A North Korean grabbed his arm.

"Hey! Can't you see she's hurt!" said Hawkeye, angrily and irrationally. "Can we not at least take the shrapnel out and stop the bleeding?!"

"They don't understand, Hawk," said BJ out of the corner of his mouth. "Just keep walking, or we're all dead." Klinger in front of him nodded white-faced.

"But she's hurt!" said Hawkeye, stepping over to the head nurse and trying to see how he could help.

"Hawkeye, stop, just do what BJ said," said Margaret pleadingly, not wanting him hurt. The dark-haired captain ignored her and pulled her to a halt, starting to take off his jacket to at least stop the bleeding.   A Korean shouted at him, and two of them grabbed Hawkeye; the other one slapped Margaret disdainfully and then trained his gun on them.

Hawkeye cracked. Normally his non-aggressive and cowardly nature snapped into play, but he couldn't help it. He turned on the guard holding him and punched him, hard.

"How dare you hit her!" he yelled, his face enraged and almost unrecognisable. His wrist was held fast by another, and a gun was pointed at his forehead with a Korean voice yelling back. Margaret bit back a scream.

Hawkeye stopped dead, eyes fixed not on the gunpoint in front of him but the soldier holding it. The latter jerked his head towards the other two, who moved forward and slung their guns over their backs.

Margaret was crying quietly, and Klinger and BJ stood there helplessly, watching their friend get systematically beaten up. Tears were standing in the good captain's eyes, knowing he dare not move, not to help Hawk or Margaret. He wanted to shout to scream, anything but he couldn't. Instead he stood there are prayed fervently for once in his life, extolling anything he could. Eventually the two guards kicked Hawkeye once more for good measure, and left him lying face down on the dusty road. The one with the gun prodded at the prone captain with his foot, before rolling his eyes and saying something intelligible. BJ stood with his heart in his mouth, relief flooding through him when Hawkeye stirred and was made groggily to stand again.

They were walking, walking down the endless road, each second stretching away into eternity. Klinger limped, from what injury BJ didn't know; Margaret ahead of him was barely keeping on her feet and her arm was almost solidly red and damp with her blood. He didn't dare turn round to check on his friend, but he could hear his ragged breathing and heavy step behind him. His thoughts wandered on to crazy, random things; the fact that if he didn't come home Peg would have a terrible time taking Erin to school, that he had left her cookies on Charles' bed, and would the major have eaten them all? He could imagine Colonel Potter having to pick up the phone, to report that they had all been – no. Shut up, BJ, and concentrate on walking. That's all you can do now. He fixed his eyes on the arid earth of the road, watching his every step and only looking up when Margaret in front of him stumbled. Suddenly the soldier in the front held up a peremptory hand. A swift and incomprehensible conversation followed amongst their captors. Then, to his immense relief, the four prisoners were allowed to sit down.

Three of the soldiers disappeared into the undergrowth, towards what BJ dimly realised was other Korean voices. One soldier remained, idly standing watching towards where his comrades had gone. BJ shuffled over to Margaret, and took her arm gently. It looked bad; but for now just stopping the bleeding would be helpful. Hawkeye crawled over to the other side of the major, and wordlessly handed BJ his ripped jacket to use as a bandage. BJ couldn't help drawing in a breath as he looked at his friend; his hands were swollen enormously, trickles of blood adorned his uniform and his face was a mass of cuts and bruises. Faintly irrationally BJ noticed that the stitches had been torn out of Hawkeye's head. Dammit, I worked on that, he thought, getting annoyed. Then he realised what he was thinking, laughed silently and ruefully to himself and continued with the bandaging.

Hawkeye put one arm around Margaret as BJ carefully as possible dealt what he could on her wound. The nurse buried her head in his shoulder, drawing silent support from the captain. He sighed, trying to ignore the feeling that his body was about three times its normal size and covered in needles, and struggling to keep down his emotions.

"Margaret," he whispered in her ear, startled to hear his own voice so rasping. She looked up at him, such emotions playing across her face that his own heart started beating faster. "Margaret – whatever happens, I want you to know – "

"You're being melodramatic, Pierce," she teased him softly, not wanting to attract any undue attention. Instead he hugged her to him as closely as he could. He opened his mouth again, but shut it quickly as suddenly their guard came alert. One of the others came rushing back, gesticulating wildly to him. The guard shouldered his gun again and ran his eyes over the Americans. He passed swiftly over the beaten dark-haired one, and the bleeding woman, and then decided on the one with the mustache. He didn't look hurt. Using his gun as a pointer, he ordered that one to his feet. Good, not harmed, perfect. Turning to the other he signalled BJ to leave the others and follow.

Hawkeye watched through horrified eyes as his best friend got slowly to his feet, harried by Korean voices. BJ was lead off, a tall shape in comparison with the Korean just visible above the scrub. Eventually they were out of sight.

"Where's he gone?" whispered Klinger out of the side of his mouth, inching closer to the two. Margaret shook her head in mute terror, clinging on to Hawkeye for all she was worth. Damn the army major face; when faced with a situation like this, she needed what comfort she could get. She could feel the slight apprehension in Hawkeye's lean frame, even as he held her close and kept his eyes fixed on the scrub ahead. The Korean voices could be heard shouting faintly in the distance, and he tensed, the fear coursing down his arms and into her, making her stiffen in fright. From that direction was suddenly heard several volleys of gunshot, and someone yelled. Margaret caught her breath in her throat, suppressing her hysterical sobs.

But then something miraculous happened. The guard, listening intently to the voices, suddenly turned and fled down the road, stumbling in his effort to escape. Out of the opposite side of the road came another group of Koreans – as Klinger discerned, South Koreans! And there, there was BJ walking at the back with a tired smile on his face! Opposite him Hawkeye tried to jump to his feet, but BJ fell to his knees beside the pair and hugged them both before coming over and hugging him too.

"We're saved! Klinger, Hawk, Margaret, we can go back…!" he said jubilantly.

Colonel Potter was not in a happy mood. He paced around the room some more, then glared out into the compound. Finally he stomped into Post-Op, where Charles was almost asleep on the table in the corner.

"Winchester!"

"Wh – huh, yes Colonel?" said Charles slightly disoriented.

"Are you sure you don't know when they will be back?"

Charles sighed wearily. " No, sir. I told you before."

"Ooh, when I get my hands on him…" muttered Colonel Potter, stalking outside and staring down futilely down the road. That captain would get a lesson on what an order was, this time he wouldn't make a mistake.

As he stared down the track leading into the compound, he suddenly discerned two jeeps, one full of Koreans and the other full of Americans, to go by the uniforms. What was this? More wounded? He blinked incredulously as the vehicles came closer. Wasn't that Klinger, and his medical personnel? Thanks be! But wait, what was wrong with Margaret?

The jeeps pulled into the dusty compound, screeching to a halt. Klinger got out and wearily saluted. "Wounded, sir!"

Potter was speechless. The cheek of this clerk! "Klinger, after we've dealt with them you are overdue a meeting in my office! You hear? Now, where are the wounded? And you three, Pierce especially - " he said, rounding on the officers, not noticing their state in his annoyance. The South Korean Major tapped him respectfully on the shoulder.

"What is it?" said Potter irritably. Klinger stumbled into the Post-Op ward to fetch Charles, and BJ helped Hawkeye manhandle the almost unconscious major off the jeep.

"Maybe the Colonel should treat his wounded before taking men to task," said the Korean commander pointedly. As Charles came hurrying out with a few corpsmen, the Colonel turned to actually look at his officers.

"Major Houlihan! Wha – A little help here!" he suddenly shouted, concerned to his very bones. BJ held up a weary hand in what could technically be classed as a salute.

"Hey, Colonel, sorry we're late."