The holidays went quickly and were gone before we knew it, the New Year of 1951 was before us, hours counting down eagerly for peace. The weather remained cold, the orphans were still very adorable and the wounded kept coming. Hawkeye even played Santa Claus throughout the Twelve Days of Christmas and beyond (Trapper and I as elves), but he eventually had to drop in on the front a few times, coming back changed each time. Afterward, making sure that the patients were comfortable in Post-Op, he played with the orphans some more and kissed me passionately, asking me for time in the Supply Room, never knowing the anguish I hid from him and everyone else.

Although the holidays itself had been quiet (save for our last party in the Mess Tent, after mass with Father Mulcahy) the next night brought time in the OR. Over thirty hours later, we were released from our duty, but more wounded came within the hour before anyone got any sleep or we divided up the shifts again. Another twenty-four hours on our feet brought me and Hawkeye to the Officers' Club, where we got drunk silly. After about an hour's worth of drinking, we both fell asleep in each others' arms, right by the jukebox. Trapper covered us up with a blanket, keeping all other people out so that we could sleep. Later that night, when all was quiet and nobody was around, Hawkeye woke up, locked the doors and strip searched me as I giggled in glee. Darkness still etched itself in my mind, although the light had been beckoning to me.

Even between of the merriment, December 29 came and went. It marked the first anniversary of Falk's final departure from me and possibly it being the day of his death if he reached Moscow that day. I still didn't tell Hawkeye about him yet and preferred to keep that secret between myself, Henry and Flagg. However, instead of talking it out with him, I decided to disappear for the day, knowing that there was no wounded coming and that too much time had passed since that day and I had no time to grieve. In the meantime, Major Sidney Freedman was around on Henry's request for a poker conference with the others (I wanted to avoid him too, especially after a game with the boys, although I won a good fortune during those games). Radar informed me before I left after my shift in Post-Op that nothing had been going on, so I took the opportunity to run for it…before anyone got to me.

The middle of January's chill brought me nothing more than determination to keep warm with gin, to remember Falk by. However, I was in luck to stay out of the camp. A bar had just opened down the road, owned by a Korean woman named Rosie. All of the traveling soldiers nearby were raving about it, Dean included (he stopped by several times, safe and sound, to tell me about this bar before he had to leave again). So, I decided to check it out. It was a short walk from camp, about five minutes, so I had time to pay some attention to a local business other than the bar. And let me tell you, there wasn't much in this Korean winter.

Dropping into the bar shyly and avoiding a vicious fight in the corner, I went to the counter. Both men were Marines, who fell through the window with some cheering from one side of the bar and moans from the other. Although discontented with the riff-raff, I was happy to see the owner present and annoyed with the Marines. Rosie (I knew it was her in an instant), who was standing there cleaning shot glasses, noticed me and motioned me to a seat quickly. I obeyed, seeing the kindness in her eyes, and smiled at her when I sat down.

"What will it be?" Rosie asked me, turning around to a counter and putting down a clean glass before me.

I put down some of the new Army script, about thirty dollars worth I had earned in my pay (well, poker pay) the day before, and smiled. "Whatever I can get out of this," I replied, wanting to get a little buzzed and forget things for a while, especially Falk and Simmons. "If I get drunk silly before my financial limit is over, keep the change. I don't want it. It'll be part of my tab for this month."

Rosie looked down at the money on the counter and then back at me. "Gin?" she asked.

"Hold the rocks. I want it as warm and as bitter as possible." I smiled at her again, almost laughing because she seemed to have known what drink I loved the best. "I just want to forget some things for a little while before I go crazy again."

Rosie took a bottle from underneath the counter and poured me gin into the glass. "Are you forgetting somebody you loved?"

I laughed sullenly, taking the glass from her when she was done pouring. Raising it, as if to toast her, I announced (with the images of Simmons in my mind and sometimes Falk), "Yes…to forget him and the pain I always feel whenever I think about it. Cheers, Rosie, and may this last for a while!"

~00~

Hours later, when night had fallen and I was all but cold (well, I was beyond feeling any of the cold, to be honest), I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder behind me. Still slumped over the same spot on the counter, drinking yet another glass of gin and feeling my mind reeling from the pain of losing Falk and dealing with Simmons, I felt my seat being turned around. I thought it was Hawkeye, sent out to get me out of the bar to sober me up, but it wasn't. I couldn't focus on person in front of me. All I could see were grey eyes, staring at me with worry, I would think.

"Come on, little sister," the voice said in a parental tone. "It's time for you to get back. You need to sober up before anything serious happens to you or to the camp."

The voice seemed familiar and it took me a few minutes to figure out who it was. When I did figure it all out, I was ashamed, even though I had done the same to him before, when he was drunk and depressed. It was my brother Dean, who finally came back to me, safe and somehow away from the front lines and not on duty. He had come back to pick me up and carry my depressed and aching body back to the camp.

"Aww, Dean, do I-I-I have to?" I slurred. "I just…just…just got h-h-here…"

I sounded like I was a child again, caught in another mischievous act, asking if I had to stop my fun all of a sudden. I felt like I was back in at Blake residence, getting out of trouble with Mom and Clarence, and Dean was trying to get me to stop what I was doing before something chaotic happened to us. I was the instigator and he was the peacemaker and vice versa, as if the roles were easily interchanged when it was possible. It was a role we both took with ease and had also switched many times over.

"Henry has been looking for you for ages and ordered that, if you were drinking, to cut you off before you got into more problems." Dean shook his head, pulling me up from my seat and hooking my arm over his shoulders, as if he was ready to pick me up. Then, looking up over my shoulder to where Rosie probably was, he added, "Thanks for watching out for her, Rosie. Next time, don't let her drink so much. She doesn't need any more than what she gets at home."

"But…but…but Dean, I put t-t-thirty down…" I protested, knowing that my limit was not reached yet.

Dean picked me up from my standing position easily enough and put me over his right shoulder. Holding me by the behind with his large left hand, he turned around, allowing me to face Rosie when he walked out of the bar with me over his shoulder. The Marines that had been fighting earlier had been knocked out, either by knuckles or alcohol, so it was a peaceful farewell that I bid to Rosie.

"Bye bye, Rosie," I called back, waving to the bartender who helped me.

"Oh, God, little sister, what have you done now?" Dean continued to carry me back to camp, the ground below me making me dizzier by the minute. "What's making you drink so much? You never did this before. Well, then again, this is your first war really. I heard about West Germany and Falk from Henry, who was worried about you and told me about everything." He paused. "Is this it? Are you upset over your first love, Falk? I mean, he was a swell guy and all and he made me feel at home too. I just didn't know how badly you missed him. I'm so sorry he's gone too. He seemed to be a great guy, when I met him that one time."

I was feeling dizzier by the minute and suddenly, I wanted to throw up. I didn't even think to be upset at Henry for babbling to my brother about what we talked about, since it seemed like the CO to forget and just talk to the next nearest person to me. Granted, Dean knew Falk personally, but it didn't mean Henry had to tell all of my secrets, things between us.

"Jeanie, are you ok?" Dean passed under the entranceway sign to the camp (sighing, I think). "I'm dropping you off at the Swamp with Hawkeye and Trapper. They'll sober you up better than I can. Right now, I don't think I have the time and patience. I don't think I can handle taking care of you."

I tried mumbling something and could not get the words out. My mouth did not want to seem to work anymore.

Thinking, Dean paused again, as if the prospect of sobering me up seemed too daunting. "At this point, I don't know what to do with you anymore, Jeanie. I'm at a lost, but am just as worried about you. You're been quieter than ever before. Ever since Major Simmons had been captured, you're drinking more and more, especially with Hawkeye in the Officers' Club. Hell, I know what Simmons did to you, Jeanie, and I'm not happy about it. Even if you filed the paperwork and he went to Leavenworth for all of his crimes, nothing seems right to me. Justice seems like it's served. However, it isn't satisfying me. I want more out of him. I want his ass."

I gagged, trying not to throw up over Dean's back, but drool was dribbling out of my mouth. It didn't help my stomach, so I tried sipping it back up, failing miserably. Finally, I spit it all out, a trail making a long mud puddle out of the beaten, dirt path. It missed Dean though and that was what mattered to me at the moment.

"Jeanie, I know you're listening to me, in some way," Dean continued, as if lecturing me in some way. "I know you understand me. So, don't worry about it right now. When you're ready to talk, you'll talk. Major Freedman is here for those, umm, poker conferences, and he'll help you, I hope. And I want you to talk to him, ok?"

A door to a tent finally opened and closed. With Dean still holding me, I heard some words above me being said, worried tones being expressed. Then, a few minutes later, with blurry images on the ground and my stomach not feeling any better, I was put on a cot. Soothing words were being said to me and a hand went straight to my forehead. I didn't know who was with me or whether or not Dean was there or not, although I doubted that he stayed. All I knew was that I wanted to throw up, my problems were still there and I still hurt everywhere. My mind and body felt no better than it had earlier in the day.

I closed my eyes, trying to forget everything again, but failing. All I saw was Falk's tall figure coming within my sight, putting a finger to his lips, silencing me before I said anything. Then, he motioned me forward, as if he wanted me to follow him, and turned away from me, walking into the unknown. I was too deep into the darkness to even follow him this time.