Hogan studied his old friend. Newkirk's green eyes gleamed brightly in his thin face and he watched his former CO intently. "You look like hell," Hogan said.

"Just a bit of shrapnel." Newkirk sat up, watching Hogan. "I've 'ad a lot worse."

"That's frightening. Seen anyone lately?"

"Saw Louie three months ago." Newkirk leaned forward. "'E's fine. His three kids are right rips. Kinch and Andrew write more than you." He arched an eyebrow. "I saw them when I popped by your place last year."

"Been keeping busy?"

"Too much. And what are you doing here? You don't travel the Asian theatre."

"Checking up on a few loose ends. Glad I did." Hogan grinned. Newkirk chuckled.

"Damn, gov, it's good to see you."

"You, too." Hogan clasped Newkirk's shoulder. His smile slipped slightly as he felt bones under his fingers. "Not eating much, I see."

"It's pretty much grab and run." Newkirk moved and winced. "Can't believe I ruddy got hit."

"What happened?"

"Mortar attack."

A pretty nurse stopped by. "I need to change the patient's dressings," she said, smiling at Hogan.

"Ah," Newkirk started.

"It's all right, old boy." Hogan grinned. "We've got plenty of time." He stood. "I'll be back."

"You better not leave," Newkirk threatened.

"Not a chance."

Hogan headed for the tent called the Swamp where he'd been told the surgeons lived. He knocked politely.

"Enter."

He stepped inside a disorganized, sloppy mess. The smell of mildewing clothes and old blood permeated the tent. Pierce and Hunnicutt sprawled on their cots. "General," Dr. Hunnicutt exclaimed. Pierce sat up.

"Take a seat. Pardon the mess, our maid's on strike," Hawkeye said.

"Since when?"

"1950," BJ said.

Hogan grinned. "I've come to ask about Newkirk," he said, sitting down. Hawkeye handed him a martini. Hogan sipped it and shuddered.

"What do you want to know?" BJ asked. "He'll heal if he stays still."

"Is there anything else?" Hogan leaned forward. "He looks ill."

"We're surgeons here, General. We don't often get a chance to do a patient study." BJ swallowed his martini. "I'll tell you one thing, he's killing himself. We work on everyone from MacArthur to marines and I've never seen the amount of damage that Newkirk has taken. Maybe his editor can give him a desk job."

"Scars?"

"He's been torn apart and reconstructed," Hawkeye said. "His chest looks like he tackled a tiger. And his back?"

Hawkeye shook his head. "What happened there?"

Hogan nodded. "Gestapo," he said quietly.

Hawkeye and BJ exchanged looks. "He was tortured?" Hawkeye demanded.

"That's what the Gestapo did." Hogan sipped his martini, winced. "Remind me to send you guys some good alcohol."

"This morning was very good for gin." Hawkeye drank his martini fast.

"General, Newkirk has to be feeling those scars. I mean, he has to feel those injuries when he moves. Muscles are stiffer, slower with that much scar tissue. Possible nerve damage." BJ spread his hands.

Hogan nodded. "You seem awfully concerned," Hawkeye said. "Forgive me, General, but he's not under your command, not anymore. He's a reporter."

"He's my friend," Hogan said tightly.

"I can give him a physical," BJ offered.

"Thank you. I'll tell him to cooperate."

"Will he listen?"

Hogan gave a tight smile. "He will to me." He eyed Hawkeye. "He's a lot like you. He dislikes officers, too."

Hawkeye shrugged. "I'm just a draftee doctor."

Hogan stood. "Thank you."

"I'll give him a physical tomorrow. We'll probably evac him the day after."

"I'll take him. I have to go to Kimpo anyway."

"No problem," BJ said.

Hogan left and walked back to Post Op. There he sat next to Newkirk as the man slept.

BJ eyed Hawkeye. "He's not that bad," he said.

"He seems all right. He's a General, though."

"He cares for his man."

"You really have it bad, don't you?"

BJ groaned. "I simply meant he's kind."

"And you want to jump his bones."

"No, I want you." BJ walked over and straddled Hawkeye. He looked down at his lover. "Hogan is sexy, yes." He kissed Hawkeye hard, wrapping his fingers in Hawkeye's hair. Hawkeye arched his back, ground his hips against BJ's. "But you're breathtaking."

Hawkeye moaned. BJ kissed him again and returned to his cot.

"Bastard," Hawkeye gasped. "Damn it, Beej."

BJ simply chuckled.

Newkirk woke early in the morning. "What are you doing here, gov?" he demanded.

"Just keeping an eye on things, Peter."

Newkirk blinked. A pleased smile curved his lips. "Thank you," he quietly said. Hogan stretched and smiled.

BJ walked over as he finished his rounds. "Morning." He looked at Newkirk. "I'd like to check a few more things out. When you're done with breakfast, I'll take you to the exam room."

"Why?" Newkirk asked suspiciously.

"Routine," BJ lightly said.

"Peter, please," Hogan murmured. Newkirk squinted at him and Hogan smiled charmingly. BJ blinked, feeling a rush of attraction and Newkirk sighed in frustration.

"Just for you, gov."

In the exam room, BJ carefully checked out the thin man. As he studied each scar, he shook his head. "What kind of reporting do you do?" he demanded. Neither he nor Newkirk noted General Hogan slipping into the back of the exam room.

"All of it." Newkirk grinned at him. "Just a few marks 'ere and there, doc."

BJ frowned. "How did you get burn scars on your thighs? Those are fairly fresh."

"Tripped on an electric fence."

BJ pressed his shoulder. "Wait a minute," he said. He walked to the door and called out. Hawkeye scurried in.

"Rotten snipers," Hawkeye said.

"You all right?' BJ asked.

"Fine. The General's jeep may never be the same."

"Check out his right shoulder," BJ said.

Hawkeye shrugged and examined Newkirk's right shoulder. He pressed like BJ had done and his eyes lit. "Have you broken your collarbone?" he asked.

"Twice," Newkirk said.

"You have cartilage degradation," Hawkeye said. "You can hear a slight rasp in your joint. You've abused your body a lot."

"Reporting can be tough, mate."
BJ gently pressed down Newkirk's spine, checking the verterbra. "You need a different job. You're killing yourself. How old are you?"

"41," Newkirk said.

"You keep going like this and you'll never see 50," BJ said. "Come on to X-ray. I want to X-ray your shoulder."

Newkirk sighed but agreed. BJ x rayed the shoulder and also his spine and chest. BJ studied the films carefully and Hawkeye shook his head. "See the previous breaks?" he asked quietly. He tapped the left shoulder and the ribcage.

BJ nodded. "He's had more than one."

"He's been beaten a lot." Hawkeye sighed. "Damn."

BJ walked into the exam room where Newkirk sat, dressed and sipping coffee. Hogan stood next to him. "Come to check on your friend?" BJ asked, smiling suddenly. Hawkeye grunted behind him. He understood BJ's looking--Hogan was attractive--but it bothered him. BJ was his, damn it. Part of him longed to toss BJ onto the exam table and prove it, claim him once and for all.

"Someone has to," Hogan smiled. Hawkeye bit his lip as BJ chuckled.

BJ looked at Newkirk. "Take my advice. Take a vacation and figure out something easier to do."

Newkirk nodded, a half smile curving his lips. Hogan's eyes filled with worry and he began pacing. "I'm fine, gov."

Newkirk stood. "I 'ave to call the Sun."

"Go see Klinger," BJ said.