It was late in the afternoon on a chilly March day, the day of my trial and what will become of me. I looked at a clock at the opposite wall, wondering when things were going to end and what the decision of this hearing will be. Klinger sat next to me at a table, also waiting for the results of this, only happy that he was away from the unit and in the capital city with me while those who mattered the most to me were left behind outside in the jeep. Although Seoul had been taken back from our military and soon to be occupied again if we're not careful (so I've heard), it made the tension worse just by fearing enemy fire more than Army trials.

Klinger alone was able to stay with me in the private room inside of HQ, since nobody else was allowed in the building with me, even though Hawkeye, Trapper and Henry came with us in the end and are outside with the jeep in their best suits. However, Klinger's efforts at getting his Section Eight had been thawed and his cross-dressing had to take a break. His yellow dress and parasol had been changed into an actual formal Army uniform because he was threatened with a court martial if he didn't change, it being an official Army trial and all. So, without further ado (and opting not to use the ladies' room, where I puked before going in), Klinger changed into an actual uniform.

I had never seen Klinger in a male uniform before (even a formal one), so tried my hardest to keep from laughing the whole time I was in this tribunal so far, especially since he recently married over short wave radio to his sweetheart and wore a wonderful dress. This was a serious situation and it needed a straight face, especially when seeing the obvious dangers ahead of me, the possibilities of death and the destruction of my life. However, him wearing a formal Army uniform was actually hilarious and making Klinger itch for sure.

If only Frank Burns could see this moment…

"How long is this going to take, Captain?" Klinger then asked me after an hour of waiting, sighing and tugging at brown collar. He was clearly wishing that he wasn't wearing it and was back in a dress, the most comfortable clothes around here for him. "I'm getting a rash just by wearing this."

"I don't know, Klinger," I replied, then looking at the door where the men (General Clayton and some of his aides) left, us two to wait for their return and then hear the verdict. "We had the evidence before them and there shouldn't be anything treasonous against me. There shouldn't be any reason why that I shouldn't be leaving Korea. I'm just sorry you had to hear about my disgraceful deeds in West Germany, which seems to be the only thing on paperwork that seems too surreal. I can only thank God that Radar helped find the paperwork against Simmons and such. I didn't keep my copies. I'm not a very organized person, I'm afraid."

"I can tell, Captain. I can see that already." Klinger blew out some frustrated air and began gathering the paperwork Radar copied for us before they were lost again. "But what will happen to you? You're bound to go home, like you said. And if not, what's next? You can't be staying in the Army."

I laughed nervously, deciding to tell him everything in wild abandonment. "I don't think so, Klinger. I hold too many secrets for the Army, like you've noticed. I don't think I can have security clearance to go into the United States ever again. Sadly, this is why I'm here and you're with me. And I'm honestly still sorry about the uniform. I know how much you love the new yellow dress. It actually matches your coloring in a way. If you put some make-up on, in a light blown shade, and then put on some more elegant earrings, silver and not gold, I think you'll look fine. The gold seems to make the dress a little more…glittery. It's too flashy."

A Section Eight scheme shined in Klinger's eyes, ideas forming in his mind once more, as his latest escape did not quite get off the ground (dressing as a nun and all). "I thank you for the helpful suggestions, Sir. Next time, I'll be sure to follow them."

I was about to answer to Klinger with a sarcastic comment when the door opened, bringing back General Clayton and his two aides. Hearing, "Ten, hut!" from one of the aides made Klinger and I stand up in respect, hoping for the best verdict there was, whatever it was.

With his aides then sitting down at the opposite table from us, General Clayton took his place in the middle, standing and smiling at us, as if he was a predator eying his prey. "Gentlemen, remain standing for a few minutes. Corporal Klinger, you are dismissed to Colonel Blake, so return outside and you can have your…dress and shoes back from the MP' at the door. Next time though, wear your dress uniform to functions such as this. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," Klinger automatically said, saluting. "Am I dismissed, Sir?"

"Go." General Clayton waved a casual hand.

As Klinger, my only comfort for the time I was in HQ, left me with my paperwork under his arms, General Clayton ordered his MPs to close the door and lock it. He then looked at me severely when the orders had been carried out. "Captain, I need not remind you that this is a serious matter that I took upon myself, instead of someone harsher, because I personally like your unit and what it stands for. I'm doing a special favor to your commanding officer and, since you're like a child to him, I will be as fair as possible."

I gulped, ignoring the rising vomit in my throat, and listened to one of the aides talk of my actions on the prompting of General Clayton, like they were crimes against the Army. "Captain Jeanette Morrison, RA 28491374, you are accused of behavior unbecoming in an officer of the United States Army, but seeing the evidence before this court, you are absorbed of your crime. Your accusations against one Major Daniel Simmons, now in Leavenworth Prison under the name of the civilian Jacob Zimmerman, are proven to be true according to witnesses from the 4077th M*A*S*H and from doctors from the unit, namely Captains John Francis Xavier McIntyre and Benjamin Franklin Pierce and Major Frank Burns."

"Not to mention, Captain Morrison," General Clayton continued after the aide ended, "you have placed the United States Army in a headlock. This is a serious issue, much more so than you think. You were a spy with Colonel Flagg as your CO, under the name of Iréne Mountebain, in West Germany after the last war before coming to Korea. You are wanted by the Soviet Union and, if they catch you, you are bound to be executed as a spy."

The obvious, although I knew about it, still felt like a punch in the stomach. I wanted to scream, ripping my hair out in the unfairness of the situation, but I remained as calm as I could, although a ripple of horror ran through my body when I heard about an execution. I stared at General Clayton in the eyes and appeared, in every way, to be responsible about my actions, immoral and otherwise.

"However," General Clayton added hastily when he saw my horrified face at the mention of an execution, "we're bound to protect one of our own. We cannot allow you back to the United States until after the hostilities are over here in Korea because of the lack of security clearance on your end. That has been agreed upon by everybody here, officials, generals and others alike, if that can be the case. We also cannot send you to a remote location, alone and with secrets that could be forced out of you if someone was to find you."

I knew about the security clearance. Why remind me? You can't even keep track of me. I betrayed nothing more and kept these thoughts to myself, opting not to reveal how I ran back into Bloomington before going to Korea.

General Clayton finally sat down at his seat and flipped through the papers his aides brought in, continuing. "It is the decision of this court hearing to bring you and the evidence of this case to Colonel Flagg, your former commanding officer when you were in West Germany. As part of the CIA, he will be able to decide whether or not you can remain in Korea, as we've decided it should be, or work in another hospital safely and one further southward, until your child is born. Dismissed!"

I saluted General Clayton, my heart beating faster and faster, nervous and tense. Although the salute back was half-hearted from his end, I was still anxious about the short verdict I was given. It meant nothing to me, although there was some hope in there, even if Colonel Flagg was involved. The news was better than I expected, but it was still not to my taste.

Colonel Flagg is now a part of my problems once more. Nice…very NICE job you did, Jeanie. And now, for the finale. Can I get out of Korea soon? Will I be able to actually get a decent job away from everything abnormal and have an ordinary life for once? Will this dream of being a housewife come out, despite seeing that Hawkeye has been distant? I don't think so.

God, any chance I get, I am aborting this child. This is starting to ruin my life. I can't afford to have one at a time like this, knowing that I'll be too sentimental, too clingy, too attached and lose everything again, a huge gamble in a war that could kill me. I can't afford to be like that, knowing that we'd both be separated in an instant. It'd be too soon for me, too soon to grow up and become the person people want me to be.

The MPs outside the door finally unlocked the entranceway as General Clayton and his aides exited, allowing me my own escape from them. As the three men turned right to go to the Officers' Club (it was opening up especially for General Clayton at this time of the morning), I turned left, heading out of HQ Seoul, all the while wishing that the verdict was different and a decision more solid, especially with Colonel Flagg in the picture. I didn't want Colonel Flagg to get into this business of mine. He didn't belong in my life here anymore, although he had been instrumental in sending me to the ROK to do the work I originally started in 1940. He was part of another, more sinister phase of my life, one that I thought was behind me. He shouldn't be bothering me anymore!

As soon as I left the building to go to the jeep (hearing planes overhead, heading north, as the next offensive was on its way), there was Henry, Hawkeye and Trapper. The three ran to me and asking me a million questions a minute and all at once as we walked back to the vehicle (and me thinking how strange it was to see the three in their best formal uniforms). The jeep was just around the corner in the parking area, where Klinger stood, waiting in his yellow dress and heels, his brown formal uniform in a bundle on the hood of the jeep.

I'm betting Klinger's going to be running it over a few good times before we leave.

I held my arms in the air, trying to silence everyone. I didn't want them to know of my distress just yet and only wished to say my peace and go back to camp. "Come on, everybody, quiet down! Do you want to hear anything or what?!"

Henry and Hawkeye shut up, but Trapper had to ask for the fourth time, "What happened in there, Jeanie? Klinger was dismissed and couldn't tell us anything. He didn't hear anything –"

"That was because most of what they wanted to say was a bunch of state secrets best kept secret and away from ears it's not meant for, like our ears that don't need secrets," Henry replied for me.

I wanted to laugh, but didn't because Henry was serious and meant well. However, the situation at hand was more serious than even he imagined. While they waited for my response, seeing this as my turn to speak, I had to think of something without breaking down. Inside, I was crying about the injustice, for myself and the others. Finally, when I took a deep breath, I talked.

"They didn't know what to do with me," I finally confessed quickly, stopping suddenly, my emotions bubbling outside for the first time since I left the building.

Henry, Hawkeye and Trapper stopped with me, confused. Although I had started shaking, I was trying to keep the distress under control, just for them.

"What, Jeanie?" Hawkeye asked, his blue eyes were turning a little red (which made me think he was going to cry with me). "They don't know what to do with you? There's no decision yet?"

"Jeanie?" Henry looked just as disturbed as the others. He then played with the sleeves on his formal uniform, looking down and avoiding my glance. He didn't know what to do.

"Oh, Henry, I don't know!" I yelled in a frustrated way, finally unable to keep everything under wraps. "I don't know. I don't know what to do anymore!"

Like the child I used to be, I threw myself into his arms, startling him, and cried, Hawkeye and Trapper looking on and then walking away awkwardly, telling Klinger to get ready to leave when I was good and ready. They knew that I needed to be alone for a few minutes with Henry, to have some parental protection for those precious seconds I had to be a child and cry my heart out. To dry more tears upon Hawkeye would be for later, when I could watch him drink and be somewhat merry with Trapper, to forget the war and its troubles. But with Henry…

For a few minutes, I felt safe and secure, as if Henry could help me again, but it wasn't for long before reality came back to me in waves. I knew it would all was bound to kick in sometime and I had to deal with it, adult or no adult. Henry couldn't keep helping me and giving me the world on a silver platter and he never had, even if he wanted to. I had to earn my own place in the world and this would be a mistake that would haunt me for years to come, even if I decided to abort the baby and make my life my own again.

While I thought that, for the ten years that I had been on my own, I had my own control and had my life in order without the help, I saw that this moment proved to me something, something that would hover over me in the darkness I walked in. I barely had my own life in my hands. I was a puppet for something else to play with and even Henry Blake wasn't going to fix it. He never had the puppet strings to begin with.