He was still punished often, and force-fed alcohol, and whipped, but he did try to get along. He wanted to live. Whether or not he made it out, he would try to save the lives of the men he was forced to operate on. It was his only choice.

Soon, he was allowed more clothes and a lab coat, a surgeon's mask, and even a scalpel, if he behaved before an operation.

He conducted himself like a doctor under his own power, working silently and with clinical focus, once he was able to wrangle any fear he felt in the man's presence.

One day, he walked into the surgery room to see somone he'd thought he'd never see again.

Pierce froze. The man standing feet from the restrained and unconscious patient chuckled.

"Recognize your patient, doc?"

The man on the table was tall, almost too tall to fit on the table. He had a high hairline, a solid form, and smile lines.

BJ.

Hawkeye continued moving when the man's amusement began to run out quickly and he looked impatient. The surgeon walked to his patient, pulled up his mask, and tried to keep himself clean and steady as he sterilized his workspace, hands, and tools. Next, he assessed the patient, Yes, use distant terms, he thought, don't think about who you're about to cut into…

The patient had a bullet wound in the abdomen and some bruising about the torso, not serious. There were contusions on his knuckles and Pierce then noted the ever-so-slight gimp in his captor's movement. BJ had gotten in some good hits.

Pierce tried not to smile at that thought as he straightened and took up the sterilized scalpel. He allowed himself a moment to collect himself, then tuned out thought and went into surgeon mode.

He'd almost gotten the bullet out when his patient stirred for a few seconds, then jolted to consciousness with a cry. Pierce stood back in shock, still holding the scalpel, his hands bloody.

BJ looked around in confusion, then down at his chest, pain registering. He didn't say anything, but looked up again. He saw the man standing a few feet away near the end of the table, at whom his eyes widened slightly. His hands tightened into fists. He looked up at the white figure standing above him in a white coat and mask. He was holding a scalpel in bloody gloves.

"Hawk?" BJ croaked.

"Beej…"

"What the hell are you doing with that guy?"

Pierce looked up at the man, who raised his eyebrows expectantly. The doctor paused and decided do what would keep him and BJ out of the danger of a punishment.

"I work here now." He wasn't lying. "This place needs a surgeon… more than MASH needs me."

BJ looked annoyed and angry, as well as astonished at his gall. "So this is where you've been all this time? You went AWOL, cut out of saving lives risked at the line, to service this guy?"

Pierce hesitated. "Well, I'm here because I chose, but wy are you here?"

"No, no, this isn't about me. What are you doing here?"

"You've been shot. I need to get the bullet out, and you're wasting time. My incision is small, but the longer it's open, the more prone you are to infection. You know that. Now may I get back to work?"

"Fine."

Hawkeye continued to attempt to retrieve the bullet once the incision was complete he had the forceps in hand, but it was difficult with his patient's breathing not being as calm as if he were anaesthetized, and his twitches at the pain. He couldn't scold him, though. It wasn't his fault. None of it was.

Finally, he got the slug out and dropped it on the table. He looked at his friend's face. It was right to be pale, but there was something else there.

"Hawk… this isn't a hospital."

"Oh, really? You referring to the concrete walls and floor, lack of lighting, and absence of doctors? Ever the astute one, you are."

"You're not supposed to be here to work."

"Well, it's not ideal, but hey, you shouldn't be here, either. I need to stitch this."

BJ shook his head. "I've never seen you operate like that."

"It was just a bullet, Beej, nothing much to it."

"You're hurt."

Hawkeye furrowed his brows a bit. "No, I'm not."

"Your hands, they way they move… something's wrong, Hawk, don't lie to me. Look at how you're holding the forceps!"

Hawkeye looked down and saw how strangely he was holding them so as not to aggravate his broken fingers.

"And how you move in general, your stance… I know you're hurt, damn it, I'm a doctor too. What's going on?"

The man at the end of the table moved forward, clapping slowly and dramatically. "So clever. I see why you like him, doc. Yes, you're right, the farce doesn't quite hold up under scrutiny, does it?"

BJ looked up at his friend, who was looking down.

The patient blanched.

"What the hell is going on?"

The man laughed boisterously. "Oh, shall we show him, doc?" He walked around to stand behind the standing surgeon, who stiffened. The tool he held fell from his hand as the man's arm was suddenly around his neck. His captor held him in a suffocating chokehold as he reached around and ripped open the doctor's lab coat and shirt. BJ was shocked, well, not so surprised now that he knew his friend was hurt and in trouble, but still startled to see the damage displayed across his friend's skin. There was so much bruising that there was no patch of skin clear of black, blue, yellow, red, or even green. He was so thin that he could see which ribs were or had been broken recently.

The man ripped off the doctor's mask and BJ saw his split lip, black eye (which had been hidden by his longer hair), and the look on his face.

Fear.

"You asked him why he moved so strangely. It could be the broken fingers, ribs, and dislocated shoulder… or it could be me." He chuckled as his victim trembled and benignly grabbed for the arm strangling him, choking and gagging.

"Let him go!"

"As you wish," The man laughed as he threw Pierce at the wall, where his head cracked against it and he fell limply. BJ watched in horror. With a hand to his head, Hawkeye pulled himself up against the wall and painstakingly got back on his feet. BJ strained to see what was happening as the man strode to the thin doctor and punched him in the gut. Pierce fell back and gasped when his back hit the wall. He still had his shirt and jacket on to protect the lashes there but he felt blood trickle down his back.

"The good doctor here has become quite the model prisoner. He knows how to take his punishments. It isn't about honor, pride, or even saving lives. He's surviving. Why, he's not the man you once knew. Look at him."

BJ looked to his friend. He was hardly able to stand, but looked determined to. He was trembling terribly. Blood trickled down from his temple and side. He was sickly and pale, too thin. Now that he didn't have the clothes, act, and pressure to hide his condition, he looked like death.

"Why are you doing this?" BJ asked quietly.

The man turned to him with a scalding glare. "You are in no position to question me."

He turned to Pierce. "You're a man of the heart. Are you loyal to your friend?"

Hawkeye looked to BJ on the table, who looked far from excited to hear where this was going.

"Yes."

The man walked up to him slowly. Hawkeye shifted nervously. When the man got to him, standing close, he lifted a hand to rest it at the back of Pierce's neck, holding it lightly. It was scarier than a punch. Why would he be gentle?

Hawkeye couldn't look at him, so he just stared at his friend across the room.

The man leaned in and whispered something. BJ saw his friend's breathing hitch. Hawk's eyes flitted to those of the man whose grip had tightened slightly, holding him there.

The man raised his hand as if to strike him. Pierce fliched sharply. The man laughed and released him, walking toward the middle of the room.

"I want to know how loyal you are."

Pierce looked on in confusion.

"So, doc," The man said, turning to him, "what would you do for your friend?"

Hawkeye didn't hesitate. "Anything."

"How long has it been since you've eaten?"

Pierce looked away, thinking hard. "I don't know. Weeks."

BJ's eyes widened.

"You can have a full, hot meal, so much that you can't possibly finish in one sitting. The price is my breaking his leg."

"No." Pierce closed his eyes. "Not worth it. Not nearly."

BJ furrowed his brows. "Hawk, take the deal, you need food!"

Pierce shook his head.

"Hmm. One week, all to yourself, and I won't touch you, same cost."

"No."

"Damn it, Hawk, you have to heal!"

BJ was pleading with his friend to stop being selfless, but he knew his friend. Hawkeye Pierce may act selfish in camp, but he was the farthest thing from it.

"How about this. First, you stitch up your friend. Then I want you to take off everything you've gained since you cracked. We're going to play a little game."

Pierce nodded, head down, then went back to work. He took up the curved needle and long thread after sterilizing them, all after he doused his hands liberally in alcohol. BJ's face was pinched in pain, but the patient knew it was nothing compared to what the man standing over him - somehow still standing - must be going through. Minutes later the job was done, the line cut, and tools replaced. Pierce's eyes met those of his friend, who watched him anxiously. The doctor's eyes showed every apology he couldn't speak. He then moved back to the center of the room and mindfully removed his jacket, shirt, and pants, leaving him in his boxers. BJ had to look away from Hawkeye's marred body so as not to throw up. When he looked back, the man had moved to face the surgeon. He reached out and touched Pierce's stomach, where the bruising was an angry violet. Hawkeye gasped and moved back an inch.

"There. You may not scream very often, but you make up for it in gasps and whimpers. You sound like a wounded dog, you know."

Pierce looked down, ashamed.

"Remember when I whipped you and every time you cried out, you got five more?"

Now he shuddered and closed his eyes, nodding.

His eyes opened at the man's pause, which allowed him to connect the dots. His wide eyes only amused the man.

"It was hard for you to contain the pain like that. You're very expressive. You can lie and joke well enough, but here, I can see your fear and pain clear as day. You can't hide it. It drains you."

Hawkeye didn't respond.

The man growled impatiently, then grabbed him by the throat. "Well?"

Hawkeye's chest jolted with his panicked breathing. "I-it's hard… hurts more."

"That's what I thought." The man released him.

"So here's the game. I'll do what I like, and you remain silent. If I hear so much as an abnormal breath from you, your friend dies."

Hawkeye's horrified gaze shot to BJ, lying prone, then back to the man reveling in this emotional torture.

"Is your friend worth that?"

Hawkeye wasn't going to take any chances by speaking. He nodded.

"How fun." He grinned and drew his foot back, swinging it forward and driving his boot into the swaying doctor's gut. Pierce fell back and down, hitting the ground hard, but without a sound. His head cracked against the ground and he grimaced in pain. The next kick was also aimed at the heavily bruised area, and this one being more of a stomp, Hawkeye nearly threw up from the force, but he had nothing to expel. He couldn't even gag, due to the rules. He breathed shallowly, as silently as possible with the pain he was dealt.

Next, the man straddled and punched him. With all of the hits to his chest, jaw, and head, he needed to cough up blood before he suffocated, but it would make noise. He swallowed it, along with his pain. He had to keep it under wraps.

The man grabbed his left hand. Pierce shook his head fervently. How can I operate if my hands are broken? Please, please don't… snap. His back arched the little that it could and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He was rigid with agony coursing down his body. The man snapped another finger and the doctor was shaking. That took care of that hand. The man dropped it and grabbed the other. Pierce bucked again with the next snap, and the next. One more almost made him cry out, but he bit his lip harshly. His breathing was getting loud, and the man raised his eyebrows in silent warning. Hawkeye tried to get it under control, but the searing pain from his broken fingers was so overwhelming that he just stopped breathing for a minute, trying to cancel out the sounds taking over. In his mind he was screaming at himself. Don't scream! Damn it, don't beg! Nothing! Shh! No breathing, he'll hear! SHH!

When he remembered to breathe, he didn't gasp for air, but took it slowly. It hurt his ribs to breathe deeply, but he had to right now. Before his next deep breath, another finger was snapped, and it caught him off guard. He slammed his head back into the ground to keep himself from yelling out. It made a sickening cracking sound, but he didn't yell.

The man dragged him up by the wrist and flung him to the center of the room. Pierce remained there as the man left the room for a moment. He returned with the whip. BJ saw the terror cross his friend's face, the unbridled, unadulterated horror in his eyes, and nearly wept for him. Hawkeye was practically in position, on his hands and knees, heavily scarred back practically on display.

With a sneer and without warning, the man brought the braided leather down on his captive. Hawkeye needed to scream, but what could he do, he just jolted with the hit and bit his cheek. Each hit made it harder and harder to remain silent. The fourteenth lash actually made him choke back a scream audibly, but it was covered by his captor's laughter. By the twentieth, tears were streaming down his face. His breathing was so sporadic that hits that caught him off-guard forced the breath from his lungs every time.

BJ could take it no longer. "Stop! Please, he can't hold out much longer, just stop!"

The hits ceased and Pierce instantly crumpled to the floor. He was shaking.

The man stormed up to the restrained doctor. "You want me to kill you right now? He follows through or you die."

"HE'LL DIE! You're killing him! If you want him to survive for your sick games, you have to keep him alive, don't you? The bare necessities don't keep someone alive in these conditions! He needs food, water, rest, and time to heal, just some! If he dies right now, will you be satisfied? He's done everything you asked, he hasn't done a thing against you! What have you got to lose?"

The man yelled and threw the whip to the ground, spun around to glare at the man still shaking at his feet, then ran a hand through his hair.

BJ was careful not to set him off again, but he had to lead his actions to save Pierce. "Help him survive the night. He can work better after time to heal, and he'll be so much more useful."

Huffing in aggravated agreeance, the man stormed out. He returned with two loaves of bread, a canteen of water, a first-aid kit, and a key. He dropped all but the last item on the floor by the table, then moved to BJ and unlocked his restraints.

"You fix him up. I'll leave him alone for three days. After that, you're out, and I get back to my fun."

BJ gingerly sat up, nodding absently as he rubbed his wrists. When the door was closed and locked, he leaped off the table and ran to his friend.