"Suction," Charles barked, his frustration obvious to everyone in OR.

Margaret immediately cleared the area. The bullet had struck Jessie high in the chest, breaking several ribs before coming to rest. Hawkeye had already dug it out, but Charles had been looking for almost a half hour for the cause of so much blood.

"Pressure?" Charles asked as he worked, adrenaline making his ears ring.

"90 over 50," B.J. replied. "Falling steadily."

Charles grunted in reply. Sweat threatened to drip into his eyes. Hawkeye tried to help where he could, but Charles's frantic operating had them all a little perplexed. They would steal glances at each other, silently questioning the deathly pale look on Charles's face.

And still her pressure dropped.

**********************************

Radar could not – would not – look in the window into OR. If he did, he was afraid he'd see what he could feel all around him.

She was drifting away.

If he thought screaming at the top of his lungs would help, he'd do it. And, as frustrated as he was, he wanted to yell even if it didn't help. Anything but this endless waiting.

People came and went. Some would whisper words of comfort, but as they were speaking, he would just look at them, almost as if they were talking in another language.

She's dying! Don't you realize that? Don't any of you see it? Feel it?

Despite being surrounded by people, Radar felt completely and utterly alone, set adrift in a world he could no longer control. He kept replaying the final moments in the compound over and over and over, trying to come up with a different ending, something he could have done.

But, what did it matter now? Her presence was just as much in this room as if she were actually standing there, watching him, trying to tell him - what? He swore he could reach out and touch her. And maybe – just maybe – she was telling him good-bye. Telling him he would make it without her, go on with his life.

It was more of a whisper, all the pleading he could manage.

"You can't leave, Jess. You just can't."

*******************************************************

If Jessie was in her right mind, she would have scoffed at the idea of spirits and ghosts. Klinger had once claimed in a feverous state that he saw ghosts of the dead wandering around camp, eventually heading down a road leading to their final reward.

Frankly, Jessie didn't believe him.

But right now, she wasn't in her right mind. Or any mind at all for that matter.

She watched Charles and Hawkeye working, surgical tools she was all too familiar with clanging into trays under Margaret's watchful eye. Not once did she find it strange that she was standing by, an idle stranger as her body was opened, prodded and sliced.

Maybe she should care. But, it wasn't as if she had a choice in the matter. Control of her life had irrevocably slipped out of her hands when the bullet lodged itself in her chest.

But, she couldn't feel the pain anymore, the sharp, slicing, horrendous pain that pored through her nerve endings before she blacked out.

Her life rested in the hands of her friends. She was left at their mercy, her soul not quite prepared to leave this world, but not ready to face the next.

As Charles cursed, she lost interest in the scene unfolding before her. Aimlessly, she wandered about OR, touching, but not really feeling, the inanimate objects that had become such a part of her daily routine – a gas tank here, a scalpel there. They were a part of a world that was losing its tenuous hold on her.

She should care about what her family, her friends would say about her death. She should want to stay. But, somehow, she realized it was no longer her choice to make.

You can't leave, Jess. You just can't.

His words floated through what was left of the mind she thought she'd lost. She grasped at them, a spark of life threatening the tenacious hold the next world was having on her soul.

**********************************

"Her pressure just spiked," B.J. said tonelessly, focusing on the machines.

"Is it steady?" Hawkeye asked.

"No. It might have even been a glitch in the machine."

*********************************

Jessie found herself in the scrub room, wan faces that had laughed and cried with her during her months in Korea drifting in and out of the small room.

Drifting. That's what she was doing, too.

Waiting. Waiting on the decision to be made.

You can't leave like this.

His words startled her back to some semblance of reality.

He was sitting by the door, his head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. Once again, if she were in her right mind, she would have recoiled at the sight of him. As detached as she had become, she knew the sight of her own blood.

He wasn't saying the words aloud. At least, she didn't think so. Perhaps she could only hear them in her head. After all, she had never been dead, so she didn't know what sort of skills one who was would possess.

Don't go.

As much as his quiet pleading tugged at what was left of her emotions, she was drawn further and further away. He would be OK, even without her, he would be OK.

******************************************************

Margaret hustled through the door. "Father, we need you."

"No, goddamnit, we don't!" Charles's voice boomed from inside, echoing throughout the room.

The priest went anyway. After all, he answered to a higher authority than a drafted Army major.

***************************************************

Radar never once moved, remained against the wall, his eyes shut tightly, seeing things behind closed lids only he could see. He already knew, had known since the surgery started. But, tears – his dear, sweet tears – had begun to fall once again.

For God's sakes, Jess, I love you.

I know. But I don't have any choice. She answered him, althou quite convinced replying was fruitless, her presence undetected to anyone, including him.

But, she should have known better.

His tear-filled eyes fluttered open for a moment, searching about the room. For one strange second, she thought he could see her. And for once, she knew what he was thinking. For a change.

It's not your fault, Walter.

He looked away, wiping his eyes with his sleeve before taking a deep breath and leaning back against the wall, the tears still falling down his cheeks.

He couldn't see her. It was just wishful thinking.

But, for the first time since she entered this very bizarre state, she wanted very desperately to live.

************************************************

"Ah, ha!" Charles said triumphantly, spotting the problem. "Found it!" He immediately stitched up the tiny hole. The blood stopped.

"110 over 60. Pressure's coming up. Charles, you did it!" B.J. said enthusiastically.

"Thank God!" the priest whispered.

"You sly dog," Hawkeye said, helping him stitch Jessie up. "Now, you're going to be the big hero. I bet she gives you a wet, slobbery kiss when she wakes up."

"Pierce?"

"What?"

"Shut up."

**************************************

Just as suddenly as he could feel her presence around him, she was gone.

"No . . ." he whispered to no one in particular, but knew deep down in his soul there was nothing he could do.

And it broke his heart.

He couldn't break down here. Not now. But, soon they were going to come out here – all of them – and give him the bad news.

He didn't know if he could take it. She was the only one he had ever truly loved, and now . . .

Hawkeye threw open the OR doors.

"The hero entereth!" he said merrily, bowing to let Charles pass.

Charles rolled his eyes as he pulled off his bloody gloves.

Radar jumped up, pulse racing. His first instinct was to yell at them for acting so trivial with Jessie lying in the next room, dead. He went pale as the thought hit home.

She can't be . . .

"Really, Pierce, you should work on your bedside manner," Charles said haughtily, not paying any attention to Radar's distress. He began to wash his hands.

"Well, spit it out boys, what's the verdict?" Col. Potter demanded. He had watched his company clerk closely during the entire ordeal, could tell the boy was hanging on by a thread.

Hawkeye clapped Radar on the shoulder so hard, he stumbled. "She'll be just fine, thanks to Chuck here. Found that nicked artery. Just in time, too."

"You mean . . . she'll be OK?" Radar asked, not quite believing it.

Hawkeye sat the weary corporal down. "She's had quite a blow to her system, Radar. But, if she makes it through the first 24 hours, we think she'll be right as rain. Probably ill as a hornet when she wakes up, though, but just as good as new. " He hoped.

Radar took a deep breath. This could still end just like his nightmare . . . but, he couldn't think about that right now.

Charles dried his hands and throwing the towel in the hamper. "If you gentlemen need me, I'll be in my tent."

Hawkeye patted Radar's knee. "You did good, kid," he said. "If it wasn't for you, she'd have bled out in the compound. Now, get out of those clothes. You can't have your lady waking up and seeing you like that."

"Pierce is right. Go change. She'll be in post-op by the time you're done," Col. Potter said, clapping the dazed boy on the shoulder.

*****************************************************

Charles went straight to Pierce and Hunnicutt's still and poured himself a large belt, swallowing it swiftly. He shuddered at the taste, poured himself another one and sank wearily onto his cot. This one he drank a little slower. Hoping for a diversion, he reached out to turn on his phonograph, craving solace in music.

He noticed the slight tremor in his fingers as his hand touched the switch. Pausing, he held out his hand, a little perplexed at his response to her predicament.

He had been scared . . .no . . . he had been downright terrified! The thought of her at the hands of the North Koreans made his blood run cold. But, that wasn't as bad as the sight of her blood. The emotions that coursed through him when he looked down at his hands in the compound and realized they were covered with her most precious life source almost choked him, threatening the stalwart wall he had built around himself.

What made her different from anyone else? During the harried operation, he had tried - oh, how he had tried! – to think in only safe, clinical terms, dismissing the obvious – he was operating on a wonderful woman with a charming wit and beautiful voice. Out of anyone in this awful place, he allowed her closer to him than most.

But, damn it, he never panicked! He was a professional and should act like one!

I should go check on her. Sit with her.

But, that's O'Reilly's place. Not mine.

He threw back the rest of the gin and lay back on his cot, his arm thrown over his eyes, trying not to think of anything at all.

*************************************

Radar was surprised at how small she looked. "She looks pale. Is that normal?" he pensively asked.

B.J. chuckled. "She lost a lot of blood, most of it on you, remember?"

The pair was standing at the foot of her cot in post op. Radar had his ever-present hat in his hands and was turning it around and around.

"Can she . . . I mean . . . does she know . . . we're here?"

B.J. motioned him towards her. "Sit with her. Talk to her. It can't hurt."

Radar took the few steps and sank wearily in a chair someone had placed by her bed. He touched her shoulder softly as he watched her even breathing. Finding her hand, he held it tightly, hoping for a sign that she knew he was there.

She didn't move.

And, he was afraid. Afraid if he went to sleep, the nightmares would start again, although he didn't know how anything he could dream up would be as awful as what he was living right now.

He was afraid if he took his eyes off her, he'd lose her again. She might try to slip away from him just like she did before. As helpless as he felt, he never wanted to go through that again.

But, he was imagining things. That's all. She was alive, the rise and fall of her chest reassuring despite the bandages and IVs and charts.

He folded his arms across his chest. He would wait for her to wake. Right here. To prove to himself he was wrong all along. She would live, despite what he dreamed. Even if it took a week, he would wait right here.

And wait he did, as nurses and doctors flowed about him. He waited all through the night, his eyes never leaving her. Early the next morning, he still kept watch.

But, he was so tired. After dawn, he found himself in the empty cot next to hers, wanting to sleep, but so afraid he would waken to find her gone.

His exhaustion won out, and soon, he was asleep, forgetting, at least temporarily, his own inabilities to keep her safe.

***************************************

The first thing Jessie noticed was the intense, throbbing pain, like something heavy was sitting on her chest. In her half-conscious state, she was confused. She knew she was still at the 4077th because the noises of the camp starting a new day infiltrated her muddled brain.

But, why do I hurt so badly?

She squirmed in the cot, keeping her eyes shut against the sunlight streaming in the dirty window. She tried to take a deep breath, but winced.

That's it! Straw hat! She had gone back to her tent to get it and . . .

She opened her eyes wide, not quite focusing on anything around her and struggled to sit up in the bed.

The wounded Korean girl! She had a gun and a knife!

She frantically felt around her neck, but there was no blood. Just another bandage.

Nothing made any sense at all.

"Welcome back. We've been worried about you."

Jessie squinted at the blurry figure sitting on the edge of the cot, the sun still shining in her eyes.

"B.J.," she croaked, relieved to see the familiar mustache. Her throat was sore, and she coughed a bit, which made her hurt even more. He handed her a glass, but she pushed it away, frustrated.

"What happened?" she whispered frantically, struggling to sit. "Where is he?"

B.J. gently pushed her back. "Jess, he's OK, he's right there," he replied soothingly, pointing. "Be still, or you'll tear your stitches. Charles won't be happy."

"Next to me? Is he . . ."

Jessie ignored B.J.'s order to be still. She managed to prop herself on one arm, fighting exhaustion, and focus on the cot next to her. Radar was sound asleep.

She found herself blinking back tears of relief.

"No, he's just fine. Except for worrying about you," B.J. said, coaxing her to drink. This time, she took it and drank greedily.

She handed him the empty cup, exhausted and gingerly settled into the creaky cot.

"Charles? Charles was here."

"He operated on you, with Hawkeye."

She rubbed her eyes and drew a blank. "God, I don't remember."

"What happened was you almost got your fool self killed right in the middle of my compound, that's what happened! Ruined my whole evening!" Col. Potter said from behind B.J. He squeezed Jessie's knee fondly.

She smiled weakly. "Well, it's not exactly the kind of evening I planned, either."

They were interrupted by a gaggle of voices.

"Jess! Jess!" the nurses squealed as they rushed into post-op. Jessie found herself surrounded. B.J. and Col. Potter slipped out of the way before they were engulfed by excited females.

"Girl, you scared us half to death! Don't you do anything like that on us again!"

"You know, Major Winchester saved your life. You were a goner, from what I've heard. I think it was very brave of you, though, to do what you did."

"I guess you'll get some sort of medal, the Purple Heart or something.

Jessie had a hard time keeping up with the chatter, so she just smiled and nodded.

Radar groggily awoke from all the commotion. The first tendrils of panic infiltrated his sleep-deprived brain at the sight of all the nurses around Jessie's bed. He struggled with his glasses, then saw Col. Potter and B.J. standing at the foot of it, smiling. At Radar's confused look, Col. Potter clapped his hands at the bunch.

"OK, women, OK! I think Jessie has had about as much excitement as she can stand! Vamoose before I put you all to work!"

With parting shouts of encouragement, the nurses noisily left post-op, leaving Jessie looking dazed.

"Jess."

The sound of her name startled her, and she looked at Radar, not expecting him to be awake.

He slid from the cot and fell to his knees next to her.

Sitting up gingerly, she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder. She didn't even care that it hurt like hell when he squeezed her in return.

When she pulled away, they both had tears in their eyes.

She chuckled. "Boy, what a sight we are."

He took her hands in his. "I can't believe you're OK because just a few hours ago, you were . . don't you ever do anything like that again!"

Jessie squeezed his hands. "You know, when I woke up, bits and pieces came back to me. I thought something bad had happened to you."

"You don't remember?" he asked, a little incredulously.

Jessie shook her head, and Radar turned around to look at B.J. and Col. Potter questioningly.

B.J. cleared his throat. "That's not uncommon. It could all come back, or you may not ever remember what happened. It's a way the body deals with it."

Radar seemed satisfied with that answer and turned to face Jessie. "You don't remember what you did at all? Are you sure?"

Jessie started to take a deep breath, which hurt, so she stopped. She told him what she could recall. "I remember the dance and going to my tent. Then, I remember seeing Yung Lee and a gun and knife." She self-consciously put her hand on her neck, still feeling the steel eating into her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to recall. "You came out there next and tried to talk her out of the gun. There was a jeep, too, but I don't remember where it came from." She opened her eyes. "I remember blood, too, lots of it. I didn't know whose it was."

"I t-tried to talk her into giving me the gun. I honestly thought you were out of danger, or I would have left her alone!" Radar said vehemently, wiping at his eyes.

Jessie squeezed his hand. "I walked between you and the gun, didn't I?" she said, almost in a whisper, wincing with the remembered impact of the bullet hitting her chest.

Radar nodded, still trying to stop his tears from falling.

"What happened to Yung Lee?"

"She took off in the jeep," Col. Potter said. "But, damned if Klinger didn't siphon most of the gas out of it, so she didn't get far. MPs caught up with her three miles down the road. Guess it's on the way to the stockade for her."

Jessie almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost. She carefully rubbed the bandage on her chest. "Has good aim, doesn't she?"

Radar looked down at his hands, remembering the flow of blood all too well. "Hawkeye and Major Winchester and Major Houlihan operated on you." He paused and took a ragged breath. "I think it was the longest hour of my life."

Jessie remembered when Radar had been injured months before. He wasn't exaggerating

She gingerly rubbed her shoulder. "Well, no wonder I feel like I've been hit by a tank. Wait . . .what about my family?"

"I wired them last night after the surgery. Told them you were injured in camp, but was going to recover just fine," Col. Potter said, chuckling. "Your father was hell-bent on getting you sent to the finest facility in Tokyo. But, your brother intervened. He said you were better off here with friends than alone in some fancy hospital."

Jessie smiled weakly at the thought of Johnny fighting to keep her at the 4077th, especially after he fought so hard to keep her from going in the first place.

Col. Potter reached over and squeezed Radar's shoulder. "I think we better let her get some sleep. Plus, I'm swamped in paperwork, and Klinger's not much help."

Radar studied Jessie intently. "Will you be OK?" he asked as Jessie settled back into the pillows.

"I promise, I'll be OK."

Reluctantly, he let go of Jessie's hands. "I'll come back and check on you," he said, standing up.

"I'm sure you will," B.J. said, leading the Corporal away.

Radar kept looking back over his shoulder at Jessie, but she was already asleep.

*********************************************

Radar sat alone in the mess tent, wearily sipping a cup of coffee. The camp was quiet as the moonlight streamed into the tent. It was past midnight, and he had tried to sleep. But, nightmares had woken him more than once. While he couldn't quite remember exactly what they were about, he could remember all the blood. Always squeamish around blood, he shuddered.

Thank goodness it wasn't the same nightmare he had had for months.

The door squeaked on its hinges.

I really need to get that door fixed, Radar thought to himself, not turning to look who entered.

B.J. got himself a cup of coffee and sat down in front of Radar. They sat silent for a few moments.

"Long day, huh?" B.J. asked.

Radar nodded.

B.J. took another sip. "Did she eat?"

Radar brightened slightly. "She woke up at supper time hungry as a horse. She was even glad to eat some of the stuff from the mess tent, so you know she had to be hungry. She already seems to be getting better faster than I thought she would."

B.J. chuckled as he took another sip. "Not even a North Korean bullet will keep her down for long. A imagine she gets it honest, since her father and brother have not stopped hounding Col. Potter all day."

Radar rolled his eyes. Almost once an hour, a Callahan would call, demanding an update on Jessie. "They finally got to speak to her tonight. I guess that made them feel better because they didn't call back. They'll start up again tomorrow, I'm sure."

They stayed silent for a few more minutes. "So, how're you fairing?"

Radar stared into his coffee cup. Remembering the nightmares, he shuddered. "I've tried to sleep, but I keep thinking about what happened. Then, I dream about it."

"I'm sure if I saw Peg gunned down, I wouldn't sleep for a month." He reached over and patted Radar's arm. "But, you need to get some sleep. I have a feeling this place would fall down around our ears without you to run it."

Radar chuckled. "Oh, no, sir, I'm sure it won't," he replied modestly, then cleared his throat. "I also keep thinking about – other things."

"What other things?" B.J. asked. He had a pretty good idea what they were.

Radar continued. "Right after . . . it happened, when everyone was running around, and I was sitting there holding her and she was so still and so pale-" He swallowed at the memory.

B.J. waited for him to go on.

Radar shook his head and continued. "And then while she was in surgery, and all I had to do was wait and wait, not knowing if she would live or die-" He stopped and took a ragged breath. "I know I love her. But, I didn't realize I love her that much. I kept promising God anything just so she wouldn't die." He looked at B.J. "It's kinda scary."

B.J. crossed his arms in front of him. "You know, it seems to me you shouldn't be telling me this. But, I have a feeling she already feels the same way."

"You think so, sir?" Radar said, brow furrowing. "How?"

"Well, do you think she would have walked between you and that gun if she didn't?" B.J. said. He rose and clapped Radar on the back as he walked out the door. "Get some sleep."

Radar remained where he was, thinking about what B.J. had said.