The post-op ward was quiet, the only sound the even breathing of those in various stages of recuperation. One of the nurses on loan from the 8063rd was at the desk. The small lamp she used did little to break the darkness in the room. A soldier with a leg wound near her moaned, and she looked up from her paperwork before resuming her scribbling. The sound of laughter wafted in from the compound, but it didn't disturb any of the patients.

Charles took all of this in from the side of Jessie's bed. Since Radar had decided to finally get some sleep, Charles had taken up watch from the same chair the company clerk refused to vacate throughout the entire day.

I'm on duty anyway. It's a slow night. Just doing my job, he kept telling himself as he propped his feet on the side of Jessie's cot, careful not to disturb her sleeping form. He rubbed his eyes wearily against the dull ache. He had missed seeing her while she was awake due to the fact he had guzzled the entire still dry. Not only had he almost panicked during surgery, but the emotions that he had been trying to keep at bay since last night had him in a constant state of turmoil.

So, he attempted to erase it all with bad booze.

Bad mistake.

Funny, she had asked for him, or so he had been told. But, not before she asked for Radar. Of course.

And why did it even matter?

Charles focused on her. Her drug-induced sleep kept her from moving around. But, even in sleep, her fingers clenched the scratchy, Army-issue blanket, and she whimpered slightly. Charles reached over and touched her hand, hoping to let her know someone was there.

Absently, he rubbed her hand with his thumb. If she were in Boston, he would make sure she had the finest care available – the best doctors, the best medicine. He would never have let her into this hell hole with the disease and blood and endless gore, and he silently cursed her father for not doing something to stop her. The sudden urge to whisk her away from the horrors of Korea took his breath away.

"Major?"

Charles jumped, thankful for the diversion, and let go of her hand.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" Charles instantly composed himself, not wanting the nurse to see his distress.

"I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want any?" she whispered.

Charles shook his head. For the life on him, he couldn't remember the woman's name. "No, but thank you, Lieutenant."

The nurse softly exited the post-op ward, leaving Charles alone again with his thoughts. He leaned back in the old chair with a sigh, settling in to another hour of avoiding what was really on his mind and shut his eyes for just a moment.

He didn't notice Jessie stir.

"Charles?" she whispered softly. Too much effort, and she hurt all over. She tried to take a deep breath, the after-effects of her nightmare making her heart beat wildly, but instead she winced at the pain. She would have sworn he had been there . . .

Charles jumped up so fast, his head throbbed. Gingerly, he sat on the edge of her cot. "I'm right here." He brushed a sweaty strand of hair from her face and rubbed her cheek softly with his finger.

Jessie opened her eyes at his touch, momentarily wondering where she was. She tried to focus on him. "I'm scared."

"You're fine. Nothing's going to harm you, baby." Huh? Baby?

Jessie didn't seem to notice his term of endearment. The pain medication took over, and she drifted off. "I'm glad you're here," she mumbled, fumbling for his other hand and squeezing it. With a small sigh, she was asleep again.

Charles linked her fingers with his. For once, he was glad he was in Korea, too.

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

Charles didn't hear Margaret come into the room, making sure the new nurse was working out to her satisfaction. She spotted him hovering over Jessie's bed, stroking her cheek gently with the back of his finger.

"He's been right there the entire shift," the nurse said, following Margaret's gaze.

"Has there been any problems?"

"No, ma'am. But, I don't think you could convince him of that."

As quietly as possible, she walked down the aisle and stood behind him. He didn't acknowledge her presence. Gingerly, she sat in the chair nearby.

The more she thought about it, the more it dawned on her.

"She's going to be just fine."

"There's still infection and shock and . . ." He took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Knowing what can happen doesn't make it any easier."

"But, she has the best doctors in Korea. Including you."

He wiped his eyes. "She shouldn't even be here, Margaret."

"None of us should. We just make the best of it."

Charles settled on the floor, never letting go of Jessie's limp hand. He pressed it to his lips, holding it there for a moment. "Margaret, I can't . . . I can't do this."

"I saw you in OR. I know."

He looked at her. "Is it that obvious?"

"You looked so . . . so sick while we were scrubbing up, B.J., Hawkeye and I briefly discussed taking over. But, you were so determined to be there, we couldn't see making you leave."

He closed his eyes, trying to chase away the scene. "She . . . she risked her life for him. That's something . . . when it comes down to it, I don't know if I could do for anyone. But, she did. For him."

Margaret chose her words carefully. "Sometimes you'll be surprised what you would do when the situation arises." She squirmed slightly in the chair. "Does she know?"

Carefully, he laid her hand back on the cot. "How can I bring what I feel to her attention when I don't even know what it is myself?"

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

Jessie sat upright.

Something's wrong . . .

She glanced around the dark post-op area that had been her temporary home for three days. It was full, thanks to a squadron of North Koreans trying to take a nearby hill whose Army-labeled number escaped her. Jessie hated not being able to help and resorted to using a wheelchair to get around the room to comfort where she could, despite Radar's protests. And Charles's. It wore her out. But she wasn't going to let them know.

Gone was the simple banter she and Charles enjoyed with each other. In its place was a pensive silence, only broken when he tried to coax her to eat or sleep. Many times, she woke in the middle of the night to find him sitting by her bed, keeping watch. Strangely enough, it was comforting, despite how unusual it was.

He had certainly been acting odd lately, even more protective than Radar. From Radar, she expected it. But, from Charles . . .

There! There it is again! Warily, Jessie looked at the soldier in the bed next to her. Glancing around the room, she saw Kelleye sitting at the desk across the room with a patient's file. Bigelow was on the other side, checking vital signs. She watched him until she heard it again.

He's not breathing right, Callahan. Do something!

Struggling from the blanket, Jessie crawled out of the cot and fell beside his bed, flinching as her ribs throbbed. She checked his pulse at his neck.

"Jess, what on earth are you doing?" Bigelow knelt down beside her.

"Sara! Something's blocking his airway!"

The wounded boy's condition worsened before their eyes. Before they knew it, he was gasping desperately for breath, flailing about in panic.

"Kelleye! Go get B.J.!" Bigelow yelled.

But, Kelleye was already gone.

They tried to keep him calm, but couldn't. Jessie ducked as one arm flew over her head. Bigelow tried to grab his other arm and hold him down, but couldn't catch it.

Desperate for air and unaware of his actions, he grabbed the front of Jessie's shirt.

Jessie cried out as his fingers dug into her bandages. She tried to fight him, but it just made him thrash even harder. Excruciating pain dulled her senses as she struggled to breathe. Voices seemed far off, and her vision became fuzzy as she fought to remain conscious.

She didn't notice a hand reach out and grab the wrist of the terrified boy, wrenching her out of his grasp. Vastly relieved that he had let go, but not fully understanding why, she tried to shrink away, but couldn't make her limbs function properly. Instead, she remained on the floor breathing unsteadily, trying not to be sick.

"Charles, are you crazy? You hurt him!" B.J. reached for the tracheotomy tools that Kelleye had provided as he glared at his bunkmate.

Ignoring B.J., Charles picked Jessie up into a standing position, holding her against himself as the other doctor worked.

She leaned gratefully against his chest, breathing hard, letting him hold all her weight as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. Thinking she was hearing her own heart pounding in her ears, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be calm. She realized it was Charles's heart thumping wildly.

He couldn't formulate any words of comfort. All he wanted to do was hold her, making sure she would be protected. She seemed so small and frail . . . dangerous territory.

Reluctantly, he sat her down on her cot, kneeling in front of her, forcing himself to think clinically and not emotionally. Thinking emotionally never got him anywhere.

Jessie saw the blood on the front of his shirt, and her breath caught in her throat. She looked down at her own shirt, and then their eyes met. Wordlessly, he began undoing her bandages on her upper chest, fingers shaking slightly.

She winced. "Charles?"

"You're fine. You'll be just fine."

To her, he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as her.

Neither one noticed that B.J. had finished the trach, and the wounded man was breathing without distress through a tube in his neck.

B.J. stalked towards them.

"Charles, if you ever touch one of my patients again, I'll have you arrested!"

Charles continued checking her bandages. "Hunnicutt, if one of your patients even looks at another of mine, I will personally hold you accountable. And, I will not be accountable for what I will do to you if you don't back off," he growled.

Jessie's eyes pled for B.J. to stop, but he wouldn't look at her.

Bigelow stepped back as the other wounded in post-op propped themselves on their elbows, curious to the continuous midnight racket.

"Oh, is that so? Well, buster, you better stand up and show me what you'll do! If his arm's broken, I'm going to kick you into the next war!"

Charles's furious eyes met Jessie's. She touched his wrist. "He doesn't mean it."

She gasped when B.J. grabbed the back of Charles's shirt and tried to haul him from the floor. Charles jerked out of the other man's grasp, standing up to face his angry bunkmate.

"Don't touch me ever again, you boorish imbecile! If you could operate on your patients correctly the first time, we wouldn't even be in this position!"

B.J. swung clumsily at Charles, but he jumped to the side, getting hit in the shoulder. Jessie struggled to stand as cheers and jeers echoed around the room.

B.J. wasn't as fast as Charles, and Charles's left hook connected, sending B.J. sprawling across the bed of one of the wounded soldiers.

Jessie gasped, despite the sharp pain it caused and stood, backing out of the way.

He never fights . . .

Charles reached down to pick B.J. up by the collar.

"Don't you ever threaten me . . ."

Jessie and Bigelow looked at each other, then wormed their way between the two.

"What in the name of hell's bells is going on in here?" Col. Potter roared, Kelleye hot on his heels.

He took in the scene in front of him. A pale Jessie had her back against Charles, pushing him back for all she was worth. Bigelow was tugging on B.J.'s arm, insisting on looking at his busted lip, hoping to distract him.

Everyone started talking at once.

"His patient . . ."

"He hit . . ."

"It was . . ."

"Shut up! All of you!"

Obediently, they complied.

Col. Potter pointed at Jessie. "Take care of her, Winchester! Then, report to my office pronto!"

He pointed at B.J. and Bigelow. "You and you, come with me!"

Her momentary burst of adrenaline left her drained, and Jessie sank to her cot, head swimming. Kelleye appeared with new bandages and started to change her dressing, but Charles waved her away. Without arguing, she complied, retreating towards the other side of the room as Charles resumed her job.

Jessie struggled for something to say. "Do I need more stitches?"

"I don't think so," he answered curtly. Jessie sucked in a breath when he hit a particularly painful spot. "Morphine?"

Jessie shook her head, fighting tears. "No. No more. It gives me bad dreams."

Charles shrugged, hoping to appear disinterested. Truthfully, he didn't trust himself to speak.

He had followed B.J. from the Swamp when Kelleye breathlessly told them about the soldier in post-op, despite another hangover from another night of trying to forget. When he walked inside and saw Jessie struggling against the poor man's grasp, he snapped. Reacting to her cry, he didn't even know what came over him.

He just knew he had to save her.

He couldn't stop her from walking in front of that bullet that almost killed her, but he damn sure could save her now.

He could feel her eyes on him as he worked. He didn't want her sympathy. Or anyone else's for that matter. All he wanted was to have some shred of sanity remaining for when this war was over and he could leave all this behind.

"Jessamyn?"

"Hmmm?"

"I never . . . never thanked you. For helping me. With the pills. I just realized that I never showed any appreciation for what you did. For letting me . . . for singing."

The throbbing in her chest had subsided only slightly, and she still felt disoriented. Finally, she understood. "I didn't mind. Really."

He nodded, continuing to tighten the bandages around her ribs.

When he was done, he sat back. "Now, Lieutenant, no more nursing. Next time, get someone's attention if a patient is in trouble."

Jessie saw the slight tremor in his fingers when he pulled away, despite the forced light tone to his voice. Resolutely, she reached out and took his hand in both of hers.

"Look at me. Please."

Her hands were soft and warm. Everything he remembered them to be. Resolutely, he met her eyes, filled with concern for him despite her pain.

"Are you OK? I've never seen you . . . seen you like that before."

"I'm not the one bleeding, Lieutenant." His voice wavered only slightly. He clenched his jaw, determined not to let her get to him.

Hesitantly, Jessie reached out and touched his unshaven cheek.

Charles shut his eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Emotions he had no right to feel pulsed through his veins at her compassionate touch.

"Charles? Your hands are shaking . . ."

He didn't let her finish. Instead, he removed her hand, lightly kissing her fingers before laying it in her lap.

"I'm just fine, Jessamyn. I apologize for my . . . outburst. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to pay the piper, I suppose. Now, get some sleep. And that's an order."

He gave her a small smile.

She didn't return it.

Jessie watched him walk across the darkened post-op and speak to Kelleye briefly before leaving. She rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, wondering when her world started spinning out of control.