The bright light startled him and he blinked indignantly under the O.R. lamp. Pierce and Hunnicutt must have successfully prevented the buildup of air or blood in his chest cavity, because he was able to breathe in spite of the pain of the gunshot wound. Charles spoke, his voice a low murmur.
"Could you find something a little dimmer, like perhaps the sun?" he deadpanned.
Pierce and Hunnicutt laughed.
"Glad to see your sense of humor is intact," B.J. commented.
"Unlike my rib cage," Charles groaned.
"Well, look at the bright side, Charles; it eliminates the need for a rib spreader," Hawkeye said. "The patients have said that they're sore for days when we're forced to use that."
"Thank goodness I've avoided a bout of post-operative soreness by having my ribcage blown to bits," Charles retorted, cringing as he spoke sarcastically.
"It's not blown to bits, Son," Colonel Potter said gently. "Your x-ray showed only two broken ribs."
Charles could only gape at Colonel Potter. He hadn't recalled getting an x-ray, but he did recall that first meeting between Potter and Burns at the Officer's Club. Charles had made the mistake of inviting that killjoy to drink with him; he'd actually attempted to give Burns the benefit of the doubt, in spite of all he'd heard. His mind wandered to the evening before.
"Colonel Burns," a voice called out from the entrance to the Officer's Club. "I wasn't expecting you'd be getting here so early." The group of surgeons turned to see Colonel Potter standing at the entrance to the club, his eyes fixed on all of them.
"I told you I'd be getting here at 0930 hours, Colonel," Frank explained in a whiny voice. "Remember? We talked about it on the phone…"
"You didn't account for the time difference," Colonel Potter explained. "Anyway, it's good you made it here safe and sound."
"Thank you, Sir," Frank replied, getting off of the bar stool and standing facing Potter. "Everything running smoothly?"
"Right now it's pretty laid-back, being as a ceasefire's been called."
"I know that," Frank replied snottily. "I took that into account when planning my trip. I didn't want to distract all of you from your patients."
"Couldn't be as bad as what happened to the patients on your operating table," Hawkeye jeered. B.J. barely stifled his laughter but Winchester was still undecided on whether he should outright loathe this pitiful excuse for a man. Frank could only glare silently at the dark-haired captain.
"Anyway, Colonel," Frank said, focusing again on his former c.o., "I'm mainly here for Major Houlihan. Where can I find her?"
Hawkeye crossed his fingers, hoping Colonel Potter wouldn't reveal her location. Of course, Tokyo was a big city—and Frank would be out of their hair….
"She's on r & r," Colonel explained. "Don't ask me where, because I'm not at liberty to tell you. She specifically told me that she wanted to be left alone."
"Since when does a colonel follow a major's orders?" Frank asked, his voice cranky. "As a superior officer to Major Houlihan, I order you to give up her location."
"You're still inferior to me," Potter scolded. "And not as convincing as Major Houlihan. I can't help you, Burns."
"Well, can you tell me if she and Pierce are married?"
Colonel Potter almost swallowed his own tongue at the silliness of Frank's statement.
"Married to who?" Potter replied, his laughter having become a coughing fit.
"Each other!" Frank raged. "Tell me, Colonel… Pretty please? Are they or aren't they?"
Potter glanced over at Hawkeye out of the corner of his eye. Did Pierce not realize that confessing to something like this in light of Frank's unstable state could really push the man over the edge? He must have paused for a moment too long because Frank yelled out, his face a shade of red.
"Oooh, you all make me sick!" Frank exclaimed. "Will no one listen to me!"
"What are you talking about?" Hawkeye retorted. "No one is listening to you."
With that, Frank slammed his hand down on the bar and stormed out of the Officers Club past Colonel Potter. Hawkeye stood up and faced the small group at the club, all of whom were now staring at the slammed door.
"I know everyone's been missing Frank, but you really have to aim more carefully next time."
Once Frank had left the premises and Potter was chatting at a distant table with Klinger, B.J. and Hawkeye sat down on either side of Charles.
"Why the hell is he here?" Hawkeye asked aloud, more to himself than to anyone in particular. "He escaped high and dry and is stationed back in the States, for God's sake. He must truly be out of his mind to come back here."
"I don't think he ever was in his right mind," B.J. commented. "Cheating on his wife, stealing a general's revolver, refusing to follow his Hippocratic oath and having the gall to question our morality. The man never once owned up to his own shortcomings and blamed everyone else for his failures…"
"He definitely had enough failures to blame on everyone here several times over," Hawkeye remarked. "Why do you really think he's here?"
"I can't imagine he really cares for Margaret," B.J. began. "I mean, he had his chance with Major Houlihan when his wife wanted a divorce. I remember Margaret didn't talk to him for weeks after that happened. He was even wearing his wedding ring during that time, as if to remind himself of his vows."
"And then he was back on the old war horse again," Hawkeye said with a jeer. At the sight of an unsmiling Charles, he nudged the taller surgeon in the shoulder.
"Bet you can't wait 'til Frank leaves, eh?" he asked the major. "Then it'll be you against us again."
"The man is totally devoid of acumen," Charles grumbled. "His morality notwithstanding, it's difficult to watch the beaten being beaten."
B.J. stared over at the major, nudging him with his elbow.
"What do you recommend then, Chuckles? Are you going to sponsor him?"
Charles only shook his head, irritated by everything.
"I know," Hawkeye cut in, a big smile on his face, "let's do something nice for Frank."
"Really?" B.J. asked, his grin laced with confusion. "Like what?"
"Let's all get drunk with him—and let him get just a little drunker. Besides, I want to know what he's been up to lately."
"Is that your idea of a good time?" Charles muttered. "Getting a teetotaler drunk?"
"It sure is," Hawkeye replied. "And maybe Frank'll like it too."
The idea to invite Frank Burns to the tent had been an attempt to loosen the man up and get some laughs in the process. To Pierce and Hunnicutt, Burns' existence was a joke: his career, his marriage, even his appearance. The idea to spike a teetotaler's drink was uncalled for in civilian society, but this was a M.A.S.H. unit in Korea, no less, and Hawkeye Pierce had no need for proper social etiquette. Charles opened his eyes to see the mask being placed over his nose and mouth and he made a strange yowling sound.
"What'd you do that for?" Margaret asked Charles. "It's just procedure."
"You don't have to put me under," Charles panted, as the mask was lifted off his face. "I don't really feel anything anymore. The pain… is gone."
"Really?" Margaret said, gaping at the wound in his chest.
"Besides, how are you expected to operate in such… fog?" Charles asked weakly. "You should clear the air first."
"The air is clear," Potter corrected. "Couldn't be clearer."
Hunnicutt leaned forward and touched Charles's forehead. It was cold and clammy.
"What is it, Doctor?" Margaret questioned. "Is there something wrong?"
"I think Charles is going into shock," he muttered, his voice grave. "Check his blood pressure."
The group in the O.R. stared quietly as Margaret measured Winchester's blood pressure.
"It's fifty over twenty-five," she muttered, her voice filled with dread.
"We need two more units of whole blood and levophed, stat," Pierce announced. "I'll go get it since I can't do much else, dammit."