Newkirk stretched and winced. Despite Hogan's caution, he knew he'd strained his sutures. Yet as he nuzzled Hogan's warm shoulder, he realized he didn't care. Hogan pulled him close and traced the scars across his chest. "I need a shower," Hogan mumbled.

"Me, too," Newkirk agreed. "I 'ave to get my clothes first. And I better get back to my hospital cot before the doctors come looking."

"I'll get my shower and get your papers in order."

Newkirk watched as Hogan stood and pulled on fatigues and a robe. "You seem ruddy sure of yourself." Hogan shot him a grin.

"I get what I want. Go back to Post Op, Peter. I'll see you later."

"And just 'ow do you keep any birds if you treat them like this?" Newkirk asked. "Thanks for the tumble, luv, now toddle off until I come get you again?"

Hogan broke into laughter. "Do you want to cuddle?" he joked. Newkirk glared at him and Hogan kissed him. "Go on, Peter."

Newkirk grumbled and dressed. Hogan walked him to Post Op and then went to shower. Major Houlihan nodded at Newkirk as he came in. "Are you all right?" she asked. "How's your leg?"

"It's fine, Major." He smiled. "Just had a spot of tea."

"You had tea?" a patient asked. "Proper tea?" Newkirk grinned as faces lit through the ward.

"Can Yanks make proper tea?" he asked as he sat on his bed. "Sorry, mates, you'll 'ave to wait until you're back at your unit. Or home."

He dug out his rucksack. He waited patiently until Major Houlihan was occupied then limped off to the shower. Alone, he scrubbed off the traces and scents of sex and dressed. And dressed properly. Long bladed daggers went in custom made sheaths and a pistol carefully secreted. MASH unit or not, he wanted to be prepared.

As he stepped into the compound, he spotted his doctor. Dr. Hunnicutt saw him and sighed. "Why aren't you in Post Op?" he demanded.

"I needed a shower."

"You're a patient!" Dr. Hunnicutt tossed his hands in the air. "Do you listen to anyone? Get back to Post Op!"

Newkirk grinned. "You sound like the gov'nor. I'm fine."

"Come on." Dr. Hunnicutt helped him to Post Op.

"I can walk." Newkirk opened the door.

The doctor escorted him to his bed. He checked the wound. "It's swollen," he said. "You've been on it too long. Now stay in bed before I tie you to it!"

"OK, doc. Where's your mate?"

The brown haired surgeon jerked as if stabbed. "Mate?' he blurted. Newkirk inwardly smiled. The doctor had confirmed a theory, one he'd wondered about since he'd seen Hawkeye and BJ together.

"Oh, that's right, you Yanks never could speak proper English. Mate means friend."

"I'm sorry, I knew that. It just startled me." He inhaled. "Hawkeye's not on duty tonight."

Newkirk cocked his head. "He's been with you awhile, hasn't he?"

"We've been assigned here for some time, yeah."

Newkirk studied the young doctor curiously. "Make your best friends in war," he said.

"So I hear." The surgeon's voice tightened. Newkirk scanned him again, not actually surprised at the tension he sensed. The surgeon looked away. "Just rest." Newkirk nodded and leaned back. "General Hogan said he'd take you to Kimpo."

"I know. The gov'nor told me. I'll be out of your 'air soon."

"Think about what I said. You need to give your body a break."

"I'll think about it."

Hunniciutt nodded and then turned as a muscular man stalked into the hospital. "Well, well, Pierce's Commie loving friend," the man sneered.

"Colonel Flagg. I heard you were around. Someone writing letters to the Kremlin again?"

"Funny. I bet your jokes do well with Mao."

"Actually, they're better with gin." Dr. Hunnicutt gave the stranger a look of loathing. "What are you doing in Post Op?"

"I hear you have some Chinese here."

"They're in no condition to talk to you."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"No, I will. I'm the doctor, Colonel Flagg, not you."

"And I'm a Colonel, Captain."

"Go see the Colonel, Colonel. He'll back me up."

"I'll do that." The man looked around, noted Newkirk's interested gaze. "What are you looking at?"

"You're making it bleedin' hard to sleep."

"Great, a limey. What kind of hospital is this?"

"The British are our Allies, Flagg." Hunnicutt stared at the man. "You remember allies? Those people working with us?"

"As long as they're not subversives. Who are you soldier?"

Newkirk grinned. "Peter Newkirk, reporter."

"Let him alone, Flagg."

"Why don't you go heal someone, doctor?"

"Get out, Flagg." Hunnicutt stepped between Newkirk and the Colonel. "Get out of here now!"

Colonel Flagg pointed a finger at Hunnicutt. "Just wait, Hunnicutt. You're heading for a world of hurt." He left and Newkirk looked at his doctor.

"Who's he?"

"Local pest. Don't worry about him."

"He's looking for subversives?"

"Subversives, subverters, submarines. Colonel Flagg is always looking for something."

"Huh."

Hunnicutt smiled. "Don't worry. Get some rest."

Newkirk watched the doctor check on other patients. He settled back on his cot and thought.

----

BJ stalked into Potter's office. "What is he doing here?" he demanded. He gestured to Flagg, standing in the corner.

"Hello to you, too, Hunnicutt," Potter calmly said, signing papers.

"Colonel Flagg is a menace."

Hey!" Flagg snapped.

"All right, he's a menace. And?" Potter said.

"He wants to interrogate patients!"

"Hunnicutt, he can speak to the prisoners. Flagg, you be very careful how you tread."

"Fine."

BJ glared at Flagg and then looked at Potter. "Is that it?" he asked.

"What do you want?"

"Kick him out of camp."

"You can't do that," Flagg said.

"He's allowed, Hunnicutt. Now the General wanted to talk to you."

"General?" Flagg said.

"Major General Hogan is visiting." Flagg nodded. "Go on, BJ," Potter said.

BJ walked to the office where Hogan chatted on the phone. Hogan nodded to BJ and then finished his call. "Doctor, I'll be leaving tomorrow. I'll take Newkirk as well. I have a shipment on the way for the camp's generosity."

"That's very kind of you, General." BJ flinched as a shot echoed. "Now if you could get rid of our snipers."

"I'll see what I can do."

Newkirk blinked as shots rang out. He looked around the ward and noted the wincing of the staff. He gestured to Klinger. "Klinger, has this been going on long?"

Klinger shrugged. "A week or so. That's what we hoped you guys would take care of. Snipers. They show up every once in a while."

Newkirk nodded. He laid back. Then he waited. When night came and the nurses were busy, he slipped outside, favoring his sore leg.

It took more time than he expected yet wasn't as difficult. His leg was the worst part, throbbing as he limped back into camp. He paused in the shadows as Hawkeye and BJ walked towards the Swamp from the officer's club. The dark haired surgeon laughed, tossing his arm around BJ's shoulders. Newkirk watched BJ's gaze never leave the older's man face. The sandy haired man opened the Swamp's door, gestured his friend (lover) inside the tent. Newkirk waited, watched as the men kissed and turned off the lights. He headed for Post Op. As he walked into the darkened ward, he saw Colonel Flagg talking at a Chinese patient. He paused to watch.

"OK, Ivan, tell me your name, unit, and where it is." The Chinese man stared uncomprehendingly. Flagg grabbed the man's bandaged arm. "I said, what is your name?" He squeezed the wounded limb and smiled as the man cried out in pain. Then ice stroked Flagg's throat and breath ruffled his hair.

"Let 'im go, mate," a voice growled. "Now."

"If that's you, you limey bastard ..."

"I said, let the man go."

Flagg breathed and Newkirk listened as footsteps echoed as someone ran out of Post Op. "You are a dead man," Flagg promised.

"Someday, mate, but not from you." Newkirk exhaled slowly. Flagg released the man.

Hawkeye stepped in the ward door and froze at the sight of Colonel Flagg standing rigidly by a patient bed with a long blade resting on his throat. The war correspondent held the knife calmly. "OK, everyone relax," Hawkeye said, heart racing. "Flagg, what's going on?"

"This idiot attacked me," Flagg sputtered.

"Newkirk?"

"He's torturing that man there," Newkirk said. "And, doc, tell your mate to stop where he is. I really 'ate people behind me." Hawkeye nodded.

"Beej, stop. Flagg, what were you doing?"

"I can talk to any prisoners I want," Flagg reminded.

"It appears you got a little rough." Hawkeye checked the Chinese man. "He's all right, Newkirk."

"Then take away the gun in his pocket," Newkirk said. "I don't trust him."

"This man may know where the snipers are," Flagg reminded.

"The snipers are taken care of," Newkirk said. "The sentries need to get them. And they're not ruddy Chinese, they're Korean."

"What the Sam Hill is going on? OK, son, why don't you put the pigsticker down?" Potter blurted as he entered Post Op.

"No problem, Colonel. Just keep this man away from me."

Hawkeye never saw the blade move. It simply wasn't there anymore. Newkirk stepped back and Flagg whirled. "Don't do it," Newkirk warned, eyes hard.

"You have no idea what you just did," Flagg snarled. For a long moment, the two men glared at each other, sizing each other.

"Enough," Potter ordered. He gestured and Newkirk stepped to his bed and sat down. Flagg trembled with rage. BJ walked to Newkirk and Hawkeye and Potter joined him.

"Your sentries need to get those snipers. They're tied up about 500 yards from camp." Newkirk kept his gaze on Flagg.

"You got them, reporter? How?" Flagg spat. "Just who are you?"

"I'm Peter Newkirk. I'm a war correspondent. London Sun Times."

BJ shook his head, looking at the wound. "You've popped stitches. I swear I'll sedate you."

"Just restitch it."

"Colonel Flagg, fill out a report with Klinger," Potter said. Flagg left and Newkirk relaxed as he left. "OK, son, just who are you?"

"I told you."

"A reporter that can take out snipers?" Hawkeye blurted.

"My office," Potter said.

"Can't," BJ said. "This leg needs restitching."

"All right, everyone to exam room." Potter gazed at Newkirk. "I want to know just who you are."

"I told you who I am."

In the surgery, BJ restitched the open wound. "So who are you?" he asked.

"I'm a war correspondent." Newkirk said.

"Colonel Flagg isn't playing with a full deck, son, but you made a bad enemy."

"Look, he's a ruddy power mad idiot. Military intelligence or not, he needs a bleedin' keeper."

"Who said he was military intelligence?" Hawkeye demanded.

"Anyone that crazy 'as to be military intelligence." Newkirk flinched. "Easy, there, doc."

"Relax. Congratulations. You've earned another day in our holiday hilton."

"I leave when the gov does."

"Who?" Potter asked.

"Hogan," Hawkeye said. "I have to check our Chinese guests before Colonel psycho returns."

"I'm trying to get an interperter," Potter said. "I'd like to try a prisoner exchange."

"The one with the broken leg is the leader," Newkirk said.

"How do you know?"

"I heard one of the other prisoners call him sir, treat him like a leader.""

"You speak Chinese?" Hawkeye blurted.

"No."

"They don't speak English," BJ said.

"I know a few phrases." The Englishman stretched.

"A war correspondent that takes out snipers and knows Chinese," Hawkeye said. "What isn't fitting here?"

"I don't know Chinese. Look, do you know Korean?"

"No," Potter commented.

"But I'm sure you know a few words. Yes, no, maybe a few food phrases. That's what I know. A few Chinese words. Are you done, Doc?"

"I am now."

Newkirk stood and BJ took his arm. "I'll be fine, doc."

"If you stay still, you will."

All the men turned as Flagg came into the room. "I have you, you British commie."

"Look, mate, why don't you go back to testing pencillin for red stripes?" Newkirk bared his teeth.

"You picked the wrong man, chum," Flagg snarled. "You haven't a leg to stand on. You're not even in the military."

"Actually, he is." Hogan strolled into the room. "Newkirk is my aide, Colonel Flagg."

"He what?!" Everyone looked stunned except Hogan and Newkirk.

Hogan smiled. "As of yesterday, Newkirk is my aide." He studied Flagg. "And I don't appreciate threats."

"He's not even an American!"

"He's my aide and my choice."

Flagg stormed out. Potter looked at General Hogan. "General, just what is this all about?"

"Just as I said. Newkirk needed a new job. I needed an aide." Hogan looked at Newkirk. "It works."

"Would you join me in my office, please General?"

As Potter and Hogan headed for his office, BJ helped Newkirk back to his bunk. "If Colonel Flagg bothers you, let me know."

"Thanks, doc." He studied BJ. "I'd advise you to do the same."

"Flagg isn't a problem for me," BJ said.

"Anyone like that is a problem for everyone." Newkirk tilted his head, wondering how to tell this man what he'd discovered. "I mean it. Just let me know if I can help."

"You really took out the snipers?" BJ asked curiously.

"They're alive. It wasn't that hard." Newkirk settled back on his bunk.

BJ shook his head. "You rescue your unit from the battlion, take out snipers, and get the drop on Flagg. Whatever you are, it sounds interesting. And despite what your comrades say, you don't seem clumsy."

Newkirk narrowed his eyes. "I am a reporter. That's it."

"You did what, Newkirk?" a solder asked. "You took out snipers?"

"I'm just a reporter, mate. Go back to sleep." He looked at BJ. "Good night, doc."

"Good night."

Hawkeye gestured BJ into the OR. "The snipers are being brought in. All are wounded."

"I'll scrub."