Author's Note: Sorry I didn't update last week. History and science due dates were coming to a head last weekend. I didn't have oodles of time to type. And for all you Frank fans out there, yes I know I made him a little bit more sinister than in the show in this chapter.

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"But he's already here, Frank!" I repeated, louder this time.

"That's Major to you, Winifred," he reminded me sternly while still trying to stare Trapper down.

"Maybe major idiot!" Trapper scoffed. He was staring sympathetically at me and Hawkeye. "Now I'm going to get Hawkeye into pre-op whether you know he's here or not!"

"What are you-?" Frank finally looked into the jeep. "Pierce?! What happened to you?"

Hawkeye raised his head. "For heaven's sakes, Frank! It's a war, I got shot at!"

He was growing increasingly pale.

"Belle, grab the other end of the stretcher," Trapper instructed as he climbed into the jeep and grabbed one end. I hadn't even realized he was on a stretcher.

"Right- Of course," I stammered. I'd never had this personal of a patient before. This man was my friend. I did as I was told and we carefully lifted him. We would bring him to pre-op to inspect his wounds and get him ready for whatever we would have to do to him.

"Don't worry," Trapper murmured. "I've seen worse."

I had, too, but that didn't put my mind at ease.

Once we got in, Frank and Margaret came in.

"Winifred!" Frank said. "You're supposed to be doing your morning rounds!"

"I'm kind of busy, Frank."

"How many times do I have to tell you about proper military respect? You salute and say 'Yes, Major.' And Major Houlihan will take care of Pierce while you're doing what I told you." He laughed.

"He'll probably be in better hands with her anyway."

"Frank!" Margaret whispered warningly.

I sighed. "Fine, whatever Major."

I didn't salute as I left.

As I did my rounds of the patients, administering medicine and checking vital signs, I couldn't keep my mind off of Hawkeye.

Why couldn't Margaret have done my rounds? I could have taken care of Hawkeye. I certainly hope he'll be okay. I mean, the wounds can't be that bad, right? Right?

It didn't take me long, we didn't have many patients right now. I was free to check on Hawkeye.

When I got to pre-op, Margaret was arguing with Hawkeye.

"Why would I want to do that?" she was asking. What she was asking about was a mystery to me.

Hawkeye was about to answer when he saw me. His eyes lit up. "Hi, lovely! We were just talking about you!"

"Uh... okay."

Margaret turned to me. "He requests you help Captain McIntyre with his surgery. He thinks I'm 'in cahoots' with Major Burns and will overdose him or something."

She gave him a I-think-you're-being-ridiculous look and then went over to Frank, who had just come in.

Trapper gave me a mock serious look. "Now I hope you'll be taking all good care with my Hawkeye. You hear?" he joked with a fake southern accent.

"Now wait just a minute!" Frank was really getting on my nerves today. "I'm in charge and I'm going to operate on Pierce!"

"What?!" Hawkeye looked as panicked as a trapped animal. "But I wanted-"

Frank sighed impatiently. "Do you really think I care about what you want? But fine. How's this? We compromise. Winifred and I will operate." He shooed Trapper out and Margaret went with him.

"Go get the disinfectant. I left it on my desk."

"You mean on Henry's desk?" I asked dubiously. "Why is it there?"

"I got a splinter this morning."

"And you disinfected it?"

"I don't know where that wood's been!"

"Whatever you say." That man is weird.

I left pre-op, but crouched by the door. I "overheard" Frank say, "You're going to regret all those times you messed with me. The pranks, the taunts. You deserve everything that's coming to you."

I stumbled away from the door, Frank's growling threat ringing in my ears.