A/N: Hello lovely people! My sincerest apologies for having taken so long to write this chapter - my muse has been busy tromping around various other fandoms, so reigning her in long enough to get the chapter written was quite a task. I was also very busy with schoolwork and the like, so other extracurriculars - like sleep, food, hygiene, etc. - took precedence over writing for a while.
That being said, I want to thank everyone who followed and favorited this story, and especially all of you wonderful reviewers for your kind comments. Seriously, thank you all so much.
I won't bore you with more chatter on my part, so sit back, relax, and enjoy the chapter. :)
Disclaimer: Anything thing you recognize from M*A*S*H or any other source is the property of its rightful owner. I lay no claim on the characters, settings, plotlines, etc. found in M*A*S*H, although I am honored to have to opportunity to work with them throughout this fanfiction (emphasis on the "fan" part). All I own is my OCs and whatever original plotwork is related to them and their stories.
"I guess the question is, what do we do now?" Trapper said, looking around the room. The main officers of the 4077th had all gathered in Col. Blake's office (after grabbing some much needed sleep, of course).
"Send her home, of course!" Frank blurted out immediately. "War is no place for a woman."
"We can't do that, Frank," Trapper said slowly, as if explaining to a child. "There would be too many legal repercussions for her – she'll be up in front of a judge and sent to prison before you could blink."
"Trapper's right," Henry agreed. "We have to keep this close, and keep it quiet. The more people who know about it, the more dangerous it is for her."
"As dangerous as the war is?" Hawkeye remarked. "I know what you're saying, Henry, but the girl's getting shot at over here. I'd say that even prison would be a lot safer for her than that."
"And anyways, who's to say that they'd even punish her?" Father Mulcahy added. "I find it hard to believe that anyone would have the heart to punish a girl for trying to save her brother's life."
"Your faith in humanity is touching, Father," Trapper grunted. "But I'm sure they would. The United States Army, in all its compassion, wouldn't bother pulling its head out of its ass long enough to ask for her reasons. No, all they'd see is that they drafted her brother and got her instead, and that someone has to pay for the mix-up."
"Well, I for one say she deserves everything she would get," Frank sneered. "Just imagine, a whelp like that having the nerve to cheat Uncle Sam out of a perfectly good soldier just to stop from getting her feelings hurt."
"Are you kidding me Frank?" Henry snapped. "You want to ruin the rest of this girl's life by giving her a criminal record for willingly coming here to do things that most fella's would get medals for after being dragged here kicking and screaming?"
"Yes, but Henry, which is worse?" Hawkeye asked. "A criminal record, or a ride home in a casket?"
"Why are we all sitting here discussing this, anyways?" Margaret asked. "I'm sure she knew the risks when she came over here, and I personally think it was a very brave and noble thing for her to do. Why are we assuming that she doesn't have just the same chances of getting through her tour as any other soldier?"
"Because, Margaret, she's just a girl!" Frank told her. "Everyone know that girls can't fight!"
"Oh, really," she replied, folding her arms, and raising her eyebrows. "And why is that?"
"Now, now, that's not what we're discussing here," Henry said, interrupting the brewing spat, before Frank could stick his foot in his mouth again. "We're trying to figure out what to do with Sam, now that we have her here."
"I still say that we should send her home," Hawkeye said. "We could maybe try and talk with one of Hot Lip's – sorry, Margaret's – general friends, see if there's anything one of them could do. And besides, anything's better than an early grave."
Margaret shook her head. "No, General Hammond said that there's nothing he could do for her, and I doubt anyone short of Truman himself could keep her away from punishment."
"Well, we'll just place a call to Truman, then!" Hawkeye snapped. Damnit, she's just a kid, she shouldn't have to get herself killed over here! Why can't they all see it? he thought.
"Don't be ridiculous, what reason would he have to pardon one random teenage soldier, when he's the one sending all the others over here to get killed?" Trapper huffed. "No, I'd say that lesser evil is letting her stay here. Maybe she'll get lucky and finish out her tour without getting too seriously hurt. Or maybe she will be, and then we'll actually get to send her home without condemning her."
"I agree," Margaret said, surprising most of the room. They had all previously thought that she would only ever agree with one of the two more jovial Swamp Rats when the hottest layers of hell froze over. "There's no reason why she can't have just the same chances as any other soldier. And that's what she came over here for – to fight for her country. I say we let her."
"Henry, what do you think?" Hawkeye asked.
"Well, I'm not quite sure," Henry replied; this statement, in turn, surprised exactly no one. "I mean, on the one hand, war is a dangerous game, and I think that we have a responsibility to do everything we can to ensure that Sam stays safe. On the other hand, there's no guarantee that she will be hurt over here – or at least, hurt again – while there's every possibility that, if we send her home on the basis that she never should have been over here in the first place, she'll end up spending the next part of her life behind bars."
"None of us should be over here, Henry," Hawkeye pointed out. "She just has a chance to use that to her advantage. Who are we to deny her that?"
"Have any of you considered just asking her?" Father Mulcahy asked. "She is, after all, a legal adult, and none of us really have any right to take such a step without consulting her first. Shouldn't we take her opinion into account with all of this?"
Silence fell in the room, each of them considering this new possibility. Eventually, Trapper spoke up. "Well, I guess that settles it then. Will you be the one to ask her father? Says in her files that she's Catholic, so she might like to talk to you anyways."
"Of course, I'll speak with her as soon as she wakes up," Mulcahy replied. He sighed internally; he didn't enjoy conflict, and was concerned by the way that everyone seemed ready to make such a large decision about another person's welfare without first consulting the individual in question. Free will was one of God's gifts, after all, and it would be a shame to squander it, especially in the case of such an apparently brave and noble young lady. "And when, may I inquire, might that be?"
"It's hard to say, Father," Trapper replied. "She seemed pretty worn out when she got here, on top of her injury, so she'll probably sleep for a while. She'll be in a bit of pain while she recovers, too, so I'm not sure how much she'll feel up to talking when she does wake up."
"Well, that's alright. Just let me know when she's ready, and I'll speak with her."
When Sam awoke, she was a bit confused. Her shoulder hurt, her ears were ringing, she had no idea where she was. When she looked to her left, trying to locate the source of the noise that had awoken her, she found herself looking at the backside of a woman with a blue feathered skirt and the hairiest legs she had ever seen.
Wait, what?
"Um," she started trying to say, the word breaking off painfully in her dry throat before she could finish.
"I'll be with you in a moment, soldier," the man (the person was either a man, or a woman with the strangest case of laryngitis that Sam had ever heard of) told her distractedly. As she settled back on her pillow to wait, she could see the man's spine tense up as he realized who it was who had been speaking. She painted a cocky smirk on her face as he whirled around to look at her, almost dropping the cup of oral thermometers he had been carrying around, retrieving from each of the conscious patients in the ward. "Sammie-girl! You're awake! Boy, has everyone 'round here been worried about you!"
Sam smiled hesitantly, not sure how to react to the nickname. She hadn't been called Sammie in years, not by anyone outside her family at any rate. "You're . . . Klinger, right?" she asked, voice coming out harsh and raspy. Good Christ, how long was I asleep!?
"Yeah, I sure am. Got it in one, too!" Now that he was facing her, she could see that his dress also featured a green top with the pattern of a peacock rendered on it in turquoise sequins. It was, she thought, an admirable effort – though certainly nothing compared to her brother's Halloween costume the year previously, where he had lost a bet and been obligated to dress up as his idea of a fashionable woman (honestly, the only people worse at judging women's fashion than men were, apparently, teenage boys). "Hold on just a minute, I'll ask one of the nurses to get you some water." As she smiled and nodded her thanks, he reached out and ruffled her hair, smiling at her. "I'll go and let everyone know that you're okay, too – poor Radar's just been up the walls with nerves since yesterday!"
She watched him amble off, the fluffy skirt of his dress flouncing dramatically behind him. A smile tugged at her lips, reopening the painful cracks that had built up. She shuddered as she tasted the blood in her mouth (shotsscreamsironrednesswhatwhypleasenopleaseGodplease), and gratefully accepted the water handed to her by a pretty nurse with dark eyes and pigtails. She closed her eyes as she drank in small sips, trying to calm her stomach and the raw emotions flooding her mind.
Her nerves felt completely shot after the violence of the previous day (was it the previous day?), and she was worried about her friends. She still didn't know what had happened to any of them, although she trusted Trapper to find out for her; Radar's letters had described him as a trustworthy person, if a bit of a clown at times. Even so, the lack of information had her on edge. If only she could know that they were, or would be, okay . . .
She was also nervous about what was going to happen to her after her stay at the 4077th. Would they try to send her home? Would they send her back out into the field? Or – and her heart skipped a beat as she thought about it – would she be allowed to stay and finish out her tour of duty there, where she could be safe, and useful, and surrounded by people who knew her story, knew who she was, and cared about her safety?
She wondered which option she would prefer.
A/N: Again, thank you all so much for reading. I hoped you enjoyed, and I'll see you all next time!