"Jeanie, wake up! Wake up, honey! Oh, damn, I wish I was here when I could have been. Jeanie, wake up, honey, please!"

There it was again. Henry was telling me to wake up. First, it had been Lorraine when I was sick and not wanting to go to school. Now, it was Henry telling me to wake up and possibly get ready for school or something. Nursing school in the Army never really had vacation and when it did, I was normally elsewhere and usually not bothering him. I always had training somewhere, even in Bloomington.

Not to mention, it was usually serious when Henry did bother to wake me up. On a daily basis (and mostly nights as well), he's at the hospital working or busy trying to make decisions in his own household. I mean, the other week it seemed, Molly wanted a swing set and a pony in the backyard and it didn't help that Janie was adding that they needed a slide and another pony, just for her. With Lorraine shopping and Henry babysitting them alone, disaster loomed and I was there on their porch, laughing as it unfolded.

So, while I sat back that afternoon, enjoying doing my homework for nursing school on the back porch and basking in the sunshine, I watched Henry stutter about, trying to explain that he could not do what Molly and Janie wanted. He kept saying that Mommy would not allow him to do it, since she was in charge and would destroy him if he did something without her permission. Then, he finally let down and said he might get the swing set and slide and not the ponies, but if Mommy said it was ok. They only had to wait until Mommy got back from the supermarket before a decision was made on what would be gotten.

I was being shaken, this time harder. "Jeanie, wake up, dammit! Are you ok?!"

"She'll more be ok if we moved her," a worried voice added, a voice I have not heard before.

Or have I? It does sound familiar…

"Henry, it's not your fault," that same worried voice continued. "Stop worrying. We all should have been with her. Instead, we teased her about it and left her to Attila the Hun without the MP."

"What are you two talking about?" I opened my eyes, realizing once more that my dreams were not reality. "Henry, seriously – owww…"

I clenched my abdomen and curled into a ball, assessing the situation in my mind. I was quickly wondering why I was in pain and naked under a blanket on a cot in Simmons' tent in the middle of that idiotic war in the middle of Korea. It didn't take me long to recall what had happened some time before and why. Hawkeye, when I saw him as my head rotated around the room, looked at me and then to Henry, concerned.

"I can't believe the man escaped, Henry!" he yelled. "We should have had those MPs watching him closer!"

"If we had them, Pierce…if we had them around." Henry sighed, looking just as troubled as Hawkeye did. "Jeanie, get dressed, if you can. Your clothes are under the cot, I think. Radar has some paperwork for you to sign. We'll talk when you're done."

I was instantly annoyed with Henry's almost callous voice as I laid there, balling into a tighter fetal position. It sounded so indifferent, even if the situation was serious and he couldn't afford to break down in front of everyone. I knew it somehow what happened, but not knowing what happened after Simmons knocked me out made me embarrassment and even humiliated, as if I had done something terribly childish and wrong. All I had to do was remember how I sore I felt and that was the end of it.

"What are you talking about, Henry?" I said, trying to be as normal as could be and forget it all. "Simmons was just here. I don't remember what had happened next, but –"

"That's the point, Jeanie!" Hawkeye interrupted as Trapper came into the tent, briefly letting in some cold air.

"Simmons has been spotted in the village," Trapper said with clenched teeth. "Frank let the MPs loose to go get him. And for once, I'd let him release those dogs."

"Makes you want to get a gun and hunt him, doesn't it?" Henry asked him.

I could tell, by the tone of Henry's voice, that he wanted to do the same (I knew him too well). He was trying to remain as calm as he could before…if…Simmons was brought back to us and sent back to the States alive. He was trying hard not to run back to his tent, grab the gun from under his pillow and run off to the next village to find Simmons. I believe it would be the only time I've seen Henry so angry, to want to run off in that manner and take a human's life without any regard for his own safety.

"Why use a gun when I have my bare hands?!" Hawkeye exclaimed, reminding all that he hated guns (just as much as I do). "It's easier than a malpractice."

"It's not going to help any," I replied to all, finally feeling some relief from the pain for the moment. I uncurled from my ball and sat up straight, holding the blanket up to my chest, shivering from the cold. "For once, I vote that the MPs do their job. We should leave them alone for the time being."

"Oh, dammit, Henry, get her some clothes on!" Hawkeye's fist was balling up, ignoring my logical proposition. "Let's get her to Pre-Op, Trap. She's going to get hyperthermia just laying there."

"I'm f-f-fine," I stuttered, from sheer shame and mortification (and from the cold, for sure, even though I felt nothing). Hawkeye took off his coat (a large feat for him, for sure, for a selfish man) and wrapped it around me, the blanket on top, covering everything but my face.

When Hawkeye put his arms around me, to stand me up and steer me away from the scene of the crime, I felt his own shiver from the cold, the long johns he was sent around the camp gone already and with who knows where. His shivering also wasn't just from the cold though. It was a mix of feelings: fear and white-hot anger. He was pissed off and I could see it all over his face, his body poised into action. He wanted to move and get this over with. Like Henry, it would be one of the few times he would want to run out to kill someone without thinking of himself. He was so angry that it pulsated around the tent, a light in the darkness.

"Sure, you are," Trapper pointed out as he and Hawkeye helped me keep standing, moving me from the cot and to the door, Henry silently behind them, carefully watching them. "Hawkeye, Henry, she's turning blue. We better get her inside before she does freeze. And remember, we need to skip Margaret's tent. We don't want a hysterical fit."

~00~

So, Simmons flew the chicken coup and is somewhere in war-stricken Korea, watching and waiting for another time to strike us, if that is what his plan is. That's lovely, just lovely. It's all my fault too, letting him loose. Now, what am I going to do while he's on the run and possibly causing more harm to everybody else? I swear, the man could stop the war and overrun us with the North Koreans and Chinese if he could! I don't care about us winning the war, but being killed is another story. Hell, if he had the power to destroy us all, he'd do it. He's gaining it little by little though.

I was lying on my cot in my quarters with the other nurses, musing about the day's events and still feeling red-faced shame at what happened earlier in the day. I still couldn't believe myself, couldn't comprehend why I did it, but I stood there like an idiot and got raped again. The feelings of yesteryear came back with a vengeance, memories of a time long ago sweeping through my once-quieted mind. I went to cover my face, feeling redness fill it, and stifled tears of shame and sadness. I cared about the other nurses seeing it, only thanking the darkness for masking the salty tears coming down my face.

It was nighttime, a darkness that came early enough in the season, and sleep was eluding me in a way that I still understood. I didn't have Post-Op duty the next day, so was allowed this troubling slumber, considering also what I just went through earlier in the day with Simmons and the great impact it had on not just myself, but everyone around me. However, if wounded came, I was bound to have another shift and work around the clock. That I would welcome. Anything to get my mind off of this was better than facing it in the darkness.

My job would have made my life better than this hell I was now facing, the flames of that long ago time and place creeping up to burn me alive. I would embrace any distractions and the numbness of feeling, the fleeting thoughts to the wounded and sick that come in and erased all selfishness. Weariness was the name of this game. Hell, I was tired of the paperwork I signed all day, tired of explaining to everybody that I had no idea how Simmons raped me or how I can't remember anything else that happened after he knocked me out, the bruise on my face telling them all.

I needed something else to keep my mind occupied…

Oh, my God though. It's a repeat of history and I knew it from the start. Clarence had taught this clown well, only if what Simmons says is true. It looks to be the case, depending on what we see he does and how far everything goes. If he had not looked into personnel files or something, seeing those things that Flagg wrote somewhere in the middle, then I'd think he was telling the truth and he knew what had happened, reading in-between those blackened lines. Jesus, the two are perfect for each other, for all I care.

I feel ashamed, of course. I mean, I let another man rape me and I didn't stop him. What's WRONG with me?! I let it happen again and didn't fight back. I mean, look what I did to Hawkeye, worst of all! I betrayed his trust, ruined our relationship for all I know and destroyed the happiness we both had. I was raped by another man! What is Hawkeye going to think of me now, that I'm spoiled goods again? I know that Hawkeye knows. The face he made to Trapper and Henry in Pre-Op said it all when I was under examination by the three, with Frank also looking in, as if I need three more men looking into my female parts and poking at them, Hawkeye the least of the problem.

It was embarrassing enough that Henry explained the birds and bees when I was in puberty and that was funny really, especially seeing the repeat episode in the Mess Tent a few times at his lectures. Having him having a look at my plumbing again makes my face red, even now. Trapper was fine, I guess, because Hawkeye trusts him, but Frank's cold fish hands drive me insane, even if he was gloved and announcing that he agreed with everybody else's conclusions and that I should be filing charges against Simmons and how he'll get the MPs on his ass as soon as possible, PDQ.

Hawkeye can't look at me in the face…still!…after everybody agreed with him announcing a rape. What does this tell me? He's worried, angry and full of shame too, knowing that another man touched his woman, his "Love", as he likes to call me all the time. His Jeanie Love is now mortified more than ever before and he needs to get Simmons before the MPs do. I can TELL that he wants to kill Simmons, like everyone else. What's new? He's gonna have to wait his turn too, see what he gets after everyone is through with him.

Maybe my mother is right after all. I am a whore and an unabashed one, at that. Margaret probably thought the same when she heard all about it in a meeting in Henry's office, with everybody present but the kitchen sink, Radar at the door most likely. And confusing Radar was the least of my worries. I did not want too many people knowing anyway, although things went much differently than I thought. Margaret was very sympathetic for once. Frank, on the other hand, was thinking about how I deserved it for being careless and not following regulations, as he told Henry time after time. Oh, the lecture that came from that useless, idiotic mouth! We all didn't need to hear it, even Margaret. Old Hot Lips wanted to slap Frank silly!

Henry wanted to tape Frank's mouth shut and it showed. He eventually apologized for his words in front of me when Trapper and Hawkeye were behind him, tapping him on the shoulder and reminding him about what Simmons did with him, when Henry was sent to Seoul, and what he's charged with. THAT shut our Major Burns up pretty quickly! I mean, after that last meeting with General Clayton and all, things that went unsaid at that time could have been told to Henry and Hawkeye and Trapper somehow knew that Frank was holding back. Considering Simmons and his situation, things could go pretty badly for Frank Burns.

Margaret's eyes though…they had a changed light to them. She looked at me with first anger and then sadness, as if she too understood the perils and would do anything to make my life less hellish. She was always knowing what it was all about, reminding me of what a world this was. It was a world ruled by men usually. I know that she thought of it. And look where it got both her and me both. I've heard rumors about the chief nurse, I can say, and all of it pretty sad.

For the first time ever strangely enough, I thought Margaret Houlihan had my interests in mind. She cared about her nurses and their welfare, despite her obvious selfishness and vanity and snobbish conceitedness. Then, in a flash, just when I was thinking that she cared, her eyes turned hard again, turning back to Henry and reminding him that we need even more MPs here on the double to search for Simmons, more than what we already have, and to have more to protect the people in this camp, especially the nurses. He was a dangerous man, she said, and he could strike at any time. The next time, it could be a different nurse. Or worse, he could kill someone, she pointed out.

Simmons hasn't hesitated before and I know it. He almost killed me, for God's sake, and he could do the same to anybody in this camp, Hawkeye most of all! I'm worried. I mean, Hawkeye was emotionally hurt by the last ordeal. How can he handle another, even if it's another nurse that is targeted? Can he handle watching me or anybody else being on the table, dying without him there or on the table? Or can I handle him being dead? I can't begin to describe my feelings. I can't begin to go down this hole again.

I sat up in my cot, wondering morbidly as I put my hands in my face, trying to hide my tears still. They were sliding down my face slowly, uncontrolled and unchecked now that the heavy cloak of loneliness fell on my shoulders. My face slowly turned hotter, redder for sure now that I was crying. The humiliation was still there, the confusion constant on my mind, and there was nothing much I could do about it.

What can I do next? Surely, Simmons is all for Leavenworth and never to be seem again. It's written all over his face, written in the stars of fate, if there is such thing, and that alone would be enough. That man is up for some hard labor, like Sergeant Grant, obviously innocent before him. However, the problem of finding him still remains. He's gotta be around here somewhere, hiding near this unit or in the village down the road. Either way, he'll be back here, to torment, to torture and to kill…if he could.

Suddenly, I coughed, trying to gasp for some air, the same air that seemed to be sucked away from me. I wiped my tears away as if they did not exist. They can come later, when in a more private spot, without camp speculation and rumors whirling around. Concluding this, I looked around, feeling something heavier in the air. Something around the tent was making it harder to breathe. I couldn't tell what it was, but something was making the nurses' tent super hot, hotter than my face was, and making it very tough to actually get some sleep and breathe properly.

Then, as I turned my head, I saw thick smoke coming from another corner of the nurses' tent. Red, yellow and orange flames accompanied it quickly enough, gulping down the green fabric of the shelter above our heads.

Wait, I know this from anywhere. Could this be…?

"Fire! Everybody, wake up! There's a fire in the tent!" Nurse Janet Baker, waking up from her sound sleep, yelled at the other nurses. "There's fire in the tent! Get out!"

"Oh, God, get out of here! There's a fire in the tent! Where's Major Houlihan?!" I heard someone else scream.

Then, there were those thick noises around me, like padding feet, cots overturning and nurses yelling for help. This all rolled into one sound called chaos. It stuck to us, made us fear the unknown and sometimes the inevitable, pushing away what was supposed to be our fates. We were its slaves, made us shudder under its weight and its whip. We could not escape it within the panic, even if we felt so safe outside and away from the tent.

I got up quickly, waiting for the others to leave, and went around the tent quickly, making sure that nobody was sleeping and left behind, just in case. Of course, with Nurse Baker's loud and obnoxious voice (somehow present with us, even if she was usually out with someone), we could all wake up and hear her announcement, coughing up the smoke instead of choking on it. It was thanks to her that we were all out on time in an orderly fashion. Hell, even Margaret will be pleased to see all of us out of the tent in time, especially with someone on the ball about getting everybody awake in time. No one was hurt or killed as far as I knew and it was all we could ask for.

Checking everywhere, I saw that no nurse but me was left behind. I was about to exit, running for the door with nothing on but a nightgown, boots and my green coat on top. As I opened the door, though, a hand went over my mouth, another hand pulling me back into the fire…and to the danger once more.

"It's your time again," was all I heard before I turned around and tried to fight back.