BJ woke up the next morning to a thud, and a very odd noise. It sounded something like...

"GURGHAMUGPHUGGERUNGAAAUGH!"

Accompanied by Hawkeye's tired, yet undying laughter. Without even opening his eyes, BJ was sure he knew what he had heard. Frank had undoubtedly slipped in the mess of ages-old food outside their door, as the court martial threats were growing in volume and severity. Hawkeye didn't care. He never did.

"Frank, go meet Margaret in the showers... she'll help you clean up..." Hawkeye mumbled, causing Frank's indignant shrieks to grow louder and angrier. Eventually they died out, though, as he stalked off... possibly to do just what Hawkeye had suggested. No big surprise there, though.

"Hawk, 'd'you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah... a bit."

He was lying. BJ could tell.

"Ok. Just checking. You look kinda tired."

"Margaret, he's getting awful serious when he talks about aliens."

"Oh, Frank, don't even give him a second thought. They're both complete morons..."

Frank was changing into the spare set of fatigues that he kept at Margaret's tent... you know, the one he thought nobody else knew about? Yeah. As he pulled his pants on and buckled his belt, while Margaret turned away (hesitantly) she could hear the nervous tone in his voice and rolled her eyes.

"But what if..."

"There's no 'what if', Frank. They're degenerates, Pierce most of all, and that's all there is to it."