"Reenforcements have arrived!" Hawkeye announced proudly as he stepped into the post op ward where several nurses had now joined the wounded on cots. Trapper was sitting a few cots away from Sara whom he had forcible tucked under the itchy woolen covers only a half hour earlier. He stood up and turned to face Hawkeye who held a stethoscope in hand, the same memorable grin on his face.

"Give me ten dollars and I'll give you a full physical."

"Never on the first date." Trapper retorted, "I suppose they couldn't have sent a real doctor?"

"They could have but that would mean filling out the papers to let him out of the looney bin," Hawkeye explained as he slipped the stethoscope around his neck and planted his hands in his white lab coat, suddenly his tone turned serious, "She wasn't at The Swamp."

Trapper nodded, "Uh-huh," He pointed a few cots down where Sara lay sleeping peacefully, "Found her unconscious, most definitely not asleep, I think she's just gotten his hard by the flu, her white count is probably still low from getting shot up. We gave her some penicillin, her fever is pretty high though..."

"Damn..." Hawkeye muttered, "I'll help you out in a second Trap, I just have to talk to her..."

"No worries, I can handle it."

Hawkeye slowly walked over to the foot of his adoptive daughters cot, sweat glistened off of her forehead, her skin was ghostly pale and she seemed to shiver uncontrollably. Hawkeye frowned unhappily as he looked at the clip board holding her stats, it didn't look good. With a sigh he trooped over to the empty cot beside her and sat down, gingerly he pushed back a lock of hair from her face and held her small hand in his own.

"What's happening to you?" He whispered, "You haven't been this sick in a long time..."

He sat there for several minutes, holding hand and subliminally checking her pulse to make sure it stayed relatively the same, but in truth he was waiting... Waiting for her to give out... It had been a struggle just to allow her to stay at the 4077th, even after General Hammond had given his permission they had to face the horror of her being kidnapped and shot and as far as Hawkeye knew, far worse had happened that she wasn't telling him about.

It was almost as if she had a curse set on her, constant bad luck no matter where she went, He had already operated on her twice, Hawkeye wondered how many more times it would be before her organs were replaced by large shells and her blood became molten bullets.

"Hawk?"

"Hm?" He looked up to see Trapper standing over him.

"You've been sitting there for an hour dad, come on, I'll buy you a drink at the officers club."

"Alright," Hawkeye said as he stood up, "But only until Im drunk enough to forget this pain, Im not allowed to have angst, doctors orders."

"You're a doctor." Trapper said as they walked out of the post-op ward.

"And I order myself not to by angsty."

As they stepped inside the Officers Club, the soft sound of low jazz floated from the juke box into their ears. Frank and Margaret were sitting at one of the tables placed in the far corner of the club, whispering sweet disgusting nothings to each other and feeding each other bar nuts and pretzels. Henry Blake sat at the bar next to a familiar sight, a many dressed in a long red evening gown and bright scarlet heels.

"Henry, we're not interrupting your date are we?" Hawkeye asked as he sat down on one of the stools.

"Date, ha." Corporal Klinger, desperate for a section 8 discharge scoffed. "If I was even lucky enough to get a date with the Colonel, I'd be out of this dump so fast..."

"Forget it Klinger," Henry said as he sipped his beer, "The minute you get a section eight is the minute General Clayton confesses his love for Trapper."

"He won't return my phone calls," Trapper said as he sat down beside Hawkeye and Klinger, "I don't know what's wrong, maybe he doesn't like my personality."

"I'm sure it's your aftershave," Hawkeye said, "I keep telling you, don't use Frank's, he just lets his khaki sweat run into a bottle and leaves it to ferment for a week."

"Oh, you guys and all your hully balooey." Frank said from his corner, erecting his Ferret Face stance.

"Frank, watch your mouth!" Hawkeye said, "There are ladies present!" Margaret's ears perked up.

"Yeah, Tell me Klinger, where did you get that dress?" Trapper asked.

"Mister Kwang, I was a double of your driest martini's," Hawkeye said, "I want it to be a Sahara Desert in my mouth, I want to see little pyramids of sand on the rim, so unwet that if I sneeze I will have to order another one."

"But put it in two glasses," Trapper replied.

"How's the little one doing Pierce?" asked Henry from down the bar, obviously meaning Sara.

Hawkeye could only shrug, "She's gotten hit by the flu pretty bad, I'm sure she'll be alright, just needs rest."

But Trapper gave the Colonel a look as if to say 'Im worried it's more than the flu.' Henry must have seen because he obviously didn't continue the topic anymore as he downed the last of his beer. Meanwhile Both Major's Burns and Houlihan had snuck up to the bar and were listening intently.

"You know why she's sick?" Frank demanded heartily.

"No, why Frank?" Hawkeye asked, "Is it because she's in cold, wet Korea 2000 miles from home?"

"Is it because she's scared and feels alone?" Trapper asked.

"Is it because..." Klinger began to say, looking thoughtful, "Nope, I don't have anything."

"It's because..." Frank said smugly, "She's being forced to live in such disgusting conditions with you two uncompassionate perverts, she's relinquished a good life back in the US because you two... stupid heads-." Hawkeye and Trapper exchanged a glance of good humour, "Just because you're too stubborn!"

"Now I resent that Frank," Hawkeye said swiftly, "We are far from uncompassionate."

"Ah but you do admit you're perverts."

"We admit nothing until you pay us the fifty dollars you owe us from last night... honey bunch." Trapper replied.

Frank's lower lip swiftly disappeared, his beady little eyes poked out of his head, "Colonel! Did you hear that?"

"Yes I did Frank," Henry said, "And I think you had it coming, there was no need for such personal remarks towards Sara's upbringing and if either of you have a problem with it then see me in my office in the morning... after my coffee..." Henry's words were swiftly slurring together, he had clearly had to much to drink once more.

"This is outrageous!"

"Oh go finish sewing your khaki American flag, Frank." Hawkeye said angrily as he took a sip of his martini, "She can go home if she wants, she'd rather stay here and that's the way it's been for the last four months, honestly, some people can't adapt to change."

"Which reminds me," Trapper said, "I'm moving in with Hot lips..."

"What?!" Margaret screeched.

"Well I decided our engagement should be back on, besides, Nostrils here snores in his sleep."

"I can't help it," Said Hawkeye with a shrug, "I broke it in a failed attempt at avoiding the draft board."

"Urgh, come on Frank," Margaret said, "We have a letter for General Clayton to write."

"Send him our regards!" Hawkeye said cheerily.

"Ask him if he received my late birthday card!" Trapper shouted.

"Ask him if he got the picture of me in my pink slip!" Klinger called out as the two majors left the bar.

Trapper looked at him, "I was joking."

"I wasn't," Klinger said with a sly grin.

'And I want to go home,' Hawkeye thought.