"I was worried this would happen."

Radar sharply looked up. "Sir?"

Sidney brought himself to his feet, muttering, "I had heard about the Evans kid, I had just thought that maybe Hawkeye'd --" He shook his head, struggling to gather his thoughts. Suddenly, he looked to where Radar stood, as if noticing the young man for the first time. "You say you saw him?"

Radar nodded. "I found him in the Swamp, not all that long ago, sir."

Sidney absentmindedly waved a hand in acknowledgement, moving his lips silently, in thought. Radar watched as the man rummaged around the tent, muttering to himself, searching for something. Though, it was true, Radar certainly did not know much about psychiatrists or their jobs, he couldn't help but be bewildered by what seemed to be rather peculiar behavior coming from Sidney. He had only moments before arrived at the doctor's tent, wasting no time in telling him of what he felt Father Mulcahy had wanted to be shared, hastily adding BJ's stern feelings against seeing Sidney at that moment. Sidney had agreed with the Father, saying how it was of utmost importance he see BJ as soon as he could, and had then begun to ignore Radar, his head reeling with thoughts. Radar stood in the center of the tent, silent, waiting to be told what was needed of him next.

Sidney reached for his parka, slipping it on as he continued his questions. "He has no idea I know what just happened?"

"No, sir. Like I said, he made me promise, but Father --"

"And Mulcahy's with him right now?"

"Yes, he rushed right over as soon as I --"

"And Hawkeye's --"

Radar hurried to beat the man to it, anxious to do the interrupting instead. "On a date, yes, sir."

Sidney sighed, suddenly all business. "I'll be in the Swamp. If you could possibly make sure we're uninterrupted --"

"I'll do my best, sir." Radar paused. "Oops, sorry."

Sidney weakly smiled. "It's alright." He made for the door and was halfway out in the biting wind before he turned back. "Thank you."

Radar merely nodded. He stood perfectly still as the door slammed shut behind the psychiatrist, his mind working hard to catch up with all that had happened in a short time.

Captain Hunnicut, BJ, the man who had it all, who was more together than half the camp combined. A man Radar never worried would be broken by the war, a man he was sure would go home in one piece. And yet, he had been beaten, had lost the battle for his sanity. Radar shook his head, unable to believe it.

As he looked around and realized he was standing alone in an officer's tent, Radar managed to push all the thoughts from his mind. He hurried to the door, rushing out of it before anyone could notice that an enlisted man was in a major's tent, and ran to his office staring at the ground to keep the wind from his face.

There was probably some paperwork waiting for him, maybe a report to be filled out. Something was sure to need doing, it always was. He could easily lose himself in forms and signatures, easily forget the sight of the blood, of BJ's shaking, of the Father's horrified face, of Sidney's all-business manner.

Radar shrugged to himself. It couldn't hurt to try, at the very least.

***

Suddenly, his desperation turned to urgent anger as BJ jumped to his feet and began to pace around the small tent. Father Mulcahy sat by, fighting the urge to break the silence, taking it all in.

"Sidney?" BJ whipped around to stare at the seemingly defiant priest. "I told Radar I --"

"I know what you told Radar. I felt that --"

"You felt? Pardon me, Father, but you have no idea what this feels like." Stooping in front of his footlocker, BJ roughly threw it open, satisfied at the echoing thunk it made. He shoved a hand in and started to toss shirts and old packages from home out of his way, saying all the while, "You had no right to assume you know what I need, not to mention involve Sidney, absolutely no right." He turned away, focusing on the trunk before him.

"No right?" Father Mulcahy stiffened, working to keep his face from betraying the hurt he suddenly felt. He reminded himself that BJ was not in the most rational of states and silently prayed his temper would not get the best of him. "BJ, I believe that --"

BJ halted in his rummaging to glance over his shoulder. Coldly, he said, "You can't possibly understand this. No one can. Not you, not Hawkeye, not Sidney, not some priest you once knew who happened to hear about a child with this -- this problem. You haven't felt what I've felt, you haven't --"

"I had every right." BJ snapped his head up and slowly turned, still crouched, to face Father Mulcahy. For a split second he could see the white knuckles clutching the crucifix the chaplain often wore around his neck, before the grip was loosened. Quietly, he repeated himself. "I had every right. Not only as a man of God, a man who's life is dedicated to aiding those around him, but as your friend." Father Mulcahy faltered, unsure of himself as he caught sight of the look BJ wore. Unwilling to stop, he continued, his confidence wavering. "You came to me seeking help, BJ. I gave my word I would help as best as I could, and that is what I'm doing. I don't need to remind you that you agreed Sidney should be called. You agreed you need his help, and right now you just happen to need it most."

BJ slowly stood up, forgetting his frantic search through his footlocker for the moment. He stayed silent, staring at the Father, acutely aware of the concern in the man's face. A beat passed, and he replied, "You -- you're right. I'm sorry. I was --"

His apology was abruptly cut off by a sharp knock.

Sidney had arrived.

***

"Due back tomorrow morning, sir."

"Good, good, we'll need Burns in the OR. We're in for a long haul tomorrow, tonight was just the practice." Colonel Potter sighed, setting his pen down. "That all the forms you need my John Hancock on, Radar?"

"Just this form for the supply truck to bring more forms." Radar reached across the desk, pointing to the line that needed initials. "And Major Houlihan is wanting to speak with you, Colonel."

A flourish of the pen and the Colonel pushed the paper back into Radar's hands. With any luck he could keep the visit with Margaret short and head to his tent for a decent night's rest. "Send her --"

"I'll send her in."

"-- In." A beat. "Good."

As the young Corporal quickly scurried to the door, Margaret took her opportunity to walk into the office, whacking Radar in the face in the process.

"Watch where you're going!"

Clutching his nose, he nodded. "I'll be on my bunk, sir." He staggered through the door, wincing as he prodded the lump that was forming.

Colonel Potter slightly cocked his head to the side in acknowledgement. Glancing to the woman fuming across the desk, he pushed all thoughts of sleep from his mind. "What can I do for you, Major?"

Margaret wasted no time, starting in on her complaints with enthusiasm that was rarely ever seen by anyone in the camp.

"I thought I go on in and check on how Bockmen's kidneys were holding up, make sure he was still stable. And you know what I found in Post-Op?"

Colonel Potter sighed, dropping his head into his hands. Margaret didn't seem to notice, choosing to ignore him if she did.

"Three of my nurses, tending to a full room of patients! Not one doctor on duty, not one. It is not up to my nursing staff to pick up after the doctors, filling in when they decide not to show up when they're supposed to. They can't be responsible for every single thing. They manage their duties just fine, they shouldn't have to --"

"Margaret." Colonel Potter glanced up. "I understand your concerns, and I'll send someone over pronto." He turned to the door. "Radar!'

Radar's head peeked through the window. "Sir?" He squinted at the two blurry figured before him, pinching the bridge of his nose to ease the pain.

"Go fetch Hunnicut, send him on over to Post Op post haste."

Margaret sighed, satisfied, pulling herself to her feet as Radar came racing through the door.

"Hunnicut, sir? Cap -- Captain Hunnicut?"

Colonel Potter clenched his teeth, his nerves becoming more and more raw with each passing moment. "Is there any other, Radar?"

"No sir, it's just -- I don't think Captain Hunnicut is available now, sir."

Margaret halted in her tracks, turning to face the young man before her. "You don't think --"

Colonel Potter held up a hand, interrupting. "Radar, I don't care if he's available, just get him in there."

Radar reluctantly conceded. "Yes sir, I'll tell him right away." That said he hurried out the door, Margaret on his heels.

Colonel Potter sighed, lowering himself into his chair. Within seconds, he was fast asleep.

***

"We don't have to talk about anything that makes you uncomfortable, BJ." Sidney lowered himself onto a chair, across the tent from Father Mulcahy and BJ. "We can talk about anything you like."

"For now." The young doctor darted his eyes towards his footlocker, then back to the man before him.

Sidney nodded his head in reluctant agreement. "For now."

"But no matter what I say, it'll all find it's way back to Evans and this -- this thing I do, won't it?" BJ glared, absentmindedly folding his arms to hide them from view.

"I suppose it will." Just as defiant, Sidney stared back.

Father Mulcahy gazed back and forth, watching the exchange, and noted the slight twitch of BJ's hand.

There was silence for a moment, as the two men stared each other down, the lone priest witness to it all. "I didn't want you to come, not now."

"Now's as good of time as any, don't you think, BJ?"

BJ bite his lip, tearing his eyes away to stare at his footlocker. His hand began to twitch even quicker, as the silence seemed to grow to a deafening halt.

Slowly, carefully, Sidney said, "Why do you keep glancing at that trunk?"

BJ started, turning to look at the psychiatrist across the room. "What?"

"You keep looking at your trunk. Why?"

BJ narrowed his eyes, defensive. "It's just a trunk, what's it matter if I'm looking at it?"

"You were digging through it earlier, BJ, you --" Father Mulcahy caught himself. "Oh, I'm sorry, I suppose I shouldn't --" He cut off, sinking back into his chair.

"No, that's alright Father." Sidney gestured towards the footlocker. "What is it you're looking at, BJ?"

BJ jumped to his feet. "It's a trunk, a stupid trunk, dammit, and I don't see what it has to do with --" He paused, taking a deep breath. "What am I looking at, you want to know what I'm looking at?" He quickly stalked over to where Father Mulcahy sat, dropping down to throw the small footlocker wide open.

Sidney stayed silent, ignoring the frantic looks of worry Father Mulcahy was shooting him.

"What am I looking at? This, this is what I'm looking at!" BJ knocked the trunk to it's side, picking various objects out from the pile of letters, clothing, and other random things. He rapidly stood up, spinning around to stare at the two men before him. Carefully, forcefully, he dropped a small bundle of items into the middle of the floor. "That's what I was looking for."

Sidney craned his neck to get a good look at the bundle.

"The scalpel that mysteriously disappeared from OR and found it's way into my things, a shard of glass from the Post Op window Klinger busted last month with that blasted baseball of his, the needle from the sewing kit I bought in Tokyo, the razor Peg sent me for Christmas, it's all there, go ahead check." BJ pointed at the floor, turning away. "It's all there, and so is the rest of it, every last damn instrument I use to mar and tear myself up with. Every last --" As suddenly as it had appeared, BJ's anger dissolved. His breath hitched as he rolled up his sleeve, shoving the white bandage with speckled red spots under Sidney's nose. "Every little bit."

It was then that Hawkeye burst into the Swamp, Nurse Daggett giggling beneath his arm. He stopped dead, taking in the sight before him, as Radar and Margaret approached the tent, their argument dying as they reached the doorway.

Quickly, as if someone had muted her, Nurse Daggett's giggles stopped.