Continued references to "The Life You Save." Yeah, I may screw up the facts some, but it's all in the name of creativity!

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

I seriously need to have my head examined.

Jessie thought about her unplanned trip to the front as she found herself wrist deep in someone's intestines, flinching as a shell exploded nearby, showering her and the open wound with debris. Other wounded lay screaming for help nearby, the orderlies doing what they could. Charles barked orders nearby as she assisted him.

What in the world was I thinking? I should have stayed in camp.

Deep down inside, Jessie knew she would have gone anyway, especially after she watched Charles work like a madman. She worried about what he was doing to himself. And especially why he was doing it.

Hell, if anything, it kept her mind off her own problems!

Col. Potter, furious that they had left without permission, tracked them down and demanded they return as soon as the fighting eased. Charles refused to talk to him, so Jessie found herself holding the receiver several inches away from her ear as the colonel cussed and roared. Thankfully, not many of the wounded were routed to the 4077th, so they were not needed at camp. Jessie hated to think what would happen if they had been. Or what Major Houlihan would do to her after she got back, for that matter.

She didn't know how much time passed, but finally, the last soldier was stabilized and bussed away. Wearily, she leaned against what was left of the thatch wall, grateful for a moment's rest and that the bombing had temporarily ceased. She focused across the small room littered with bloody gauze and towels at Charles leaned in close to a dying soldier. Jessie couldn't make out what was being said. After a few minutes, Charles hung his head and closed the soldier's eyes.

She looked away, feeling like an intruder in a private scene.

Wearily, Charles rose and shook hands with the aid station doctor. After saying her good-byes, she followed him out the door. The ambulance had been pressed into service, so they climbed into an available jeep and roared into the night.

The loud motor and rough road weren't conducive to conversation, so Jessie remained silent, trying to figure out the whole point to this trip. It wasn't like Charles to throw himself into a dangerous situation needlessly. Did that make him a coward? Perhaps. Jessie liked to think not. He was thoughtful, never doing anything before knowing all positives and negatives attached to that action. It was frustrating at times, but she admired him for never flying headfirst into a situation without knowing all the facts.

Like she would.

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

Charles watched her out of the corner of his eye. She looked deep in thought, occasionally chewing on the inside of her bottom lip, a habit he found quite endearing. Through the entire ordeal, he found it comforting to know she was standing across from him. Occasionally, he would look up to find her watching him. When his eyes met hers, she would immediately look away. Instead of angering him, it made him feel a little less alone. Ever since Christmas, he had tried his best to open up to her a little more, but it went against everything he had ever known or thought about himself. He wanted to thank her for coming with him, but would have to think about how to bring it up.

The engine sputtered and coughed, bringing him back to reality. Cursing, he pulled to the shoulder of the road. The engine died, and refused to turn over, no matter how many oaths he muttered.

Jessie looked at him, alarmed. She found herself trying to peer through the inky darkness, wondering what exactly was out there.

He finally banged on the steering wheel in frustration, startling her. This day just continues getting worse. . .

"Now what?" she asked. She didn't know how far away they were from camp, but anything seemed better than sitting in this jeep in the middle of nowhere. "Leave the jeep here and take off on foot?"

He sighed in frustration. "Do you really want to right now?"

She peered down the pitch-black road and shuddered. "Not really."

"Wait until morning, then?"

Jessie gulped. Sleeping on the side of the road with nothing but Charles's side arm for protection didn't seem much better. "You're the boss."

He climbed from the jeep and walked around to assist her. She almost laughed aloud at his gentlemanly behavior in their current predicament. But, at the steely look in his eyes, she kept quiet.

Tired and hungry, they settled on the ground next to the jeep, Charles offering her an extra sweater he had brought. Jessie shook her head, so he put it on over his bloody fatigues.

He rummaged in his pocket and came out with a can of tuna. "Swiped it from the kitchen before I left."

They shared the meager meal in silence, settling down for the night. She shivered in the cool air. Preoccupied, he reached over and pulled her close. Thankful for the warmth, although surprised by his behavior after he had been so aloof, she settled against his side. Before long, she drifted to sleep, soothed by his breathing and the soft feel of his sweater against her cheek.

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

She woke at one point, stiff from sitting on the ground. Her tired gaze settled on his hands listlessly fingering a piece of material. Jessie reached out and took it, surprised when he didn't resist.

Studying the standard Army-issue cap in her hands, she straightened it out and saw it. The hole at the back near the crease. She stuck her finger into the space, realization dawning.

"The sniper," she whispered, looking at him. "Why didn't you tell someone?"

He took the hat out of her hand and put it in his pocket. "It's not a big issue."

"Well, it obviously means a great deal to you."

Charles remained silent, so Jessie pressed on, knowing she probably wouldn't get another opening. "What about the boy in post-op a couple of days ago? Or, the soldier at the aid station? What was that all about?"

"Nothing at all," he said in a haughty tone.

She pulled away, miffed, expecting his reaction, but annoyed by it just the same. "You've been moping around camp for days. Everyone thinks it's Martene, but I know that's not it . . ."

He had almost forgotten about Martene, and his momentary sense of loss bothered him. He found himself taking his frustrations out on the one person who was right in front of him. "You are the most persistent woman I've ever known!" he said, raising his voice. It echoed in the cool night air. "I can deal with it on my own!"

Taken aback, she started to rise. "Fine! You do that! You're obviously already doing a great job of it!" She walked to the hood of the jeep and scanned the darkness.

Well . . .eff. Where was she going to go now?

Charles could have kicked himself. It was first nature for him to shove away any efforts at communication when it came to his own personal demons. But, he had to talk to someone. After all, she had helped him face his demons before.

"Wait!"

She stopped. "What?" she barked, not turning around, but hoping he was stopping her. Sleeping by herself in this wilderness gave her the creeps.

He took a ragged breath. "I never told you about my brother, did I?"

She turned around on her heel. "A . . .a brother? But, I thought . . ."

She found herself starting to understand and watched him for a moment as he struggled for composure.

Unbidden, she settled again next to him.

He held her close as he told her about his brother that died when he was much younger, about how he couldn't walk by his empty room without being gripped with fear of death and what it brings. When he was done, he pressed his lips against her hair, closing his eyes against the sweet smell of her.

"Did your trip to the aid station help?" she finally asked, wishing she could say something – anything - to take away a lifetime of fear.

Charles took a deep breath. "I don't know. The soldier said . . . he said he smelled bread before . . . he died." He cleared his throat. "It's always . . . difficult for me to talk about such . . . these things. My family isn't exactly one for . . .for speaking about feelings and emotions."

"We're all worried about you. You've been wandering around camp with a look plastered all over your face that I haven't seen since . . . since . . ."

"Since when?"

"Well. Since I was shot."

She could feel his demeanor change, his grip on her tightening just briefly before he relaxed.

"What about you? Are you afraid? Of death?"

Jessie buried her face against his chest, wondering how to reply. And why he changed the subject so abruptly. She breathed deep, memorizing his scent. It had a calming effect on her frazzled nerves. "Growing up on a large-scale, working farm, I saw life and death all the time. It's really no different for humans, I suppose." She thought of her mother's suffering. "I guess how I die scares me more than anything."

"You know what's amusing? Your father's net worth rivals mine, yet we were raised so differently. Our views on life are polar opposites at times."

"I wouldn't have made it two minutes in your house."

Charles, saddened by her admission and not wanting to press the reasons why, changed the subject yet again. "What about where we go afterwards?"

Jessie shrugged. "I guess it's what you make of it. The soldier at the aid station's heaven was of his mother's kitchen, bread baking in the oven. I guess yours would be filled with classical music. Not from records, but the real thing. And good cognac."

"Yes, with no Pierce or Hunnicutt to interfere."

She chuckled against his chest, finding herself getting sleepy again. "I guess that would be hell, huh?"

"It most certainly is. So, what about you? What would be in your heaven?"

"I used to think it was in Iowa."

Charles's back stiffened, but Jessie didn't notice.

"But, now I don't know. As long as it's not here." She yawned.

He rubbed her arm, trying to lighten the mood. "You can't tell me my company is so dreadful that you'd rather be anywhere else."

She chuckled, her breath warm on his chest. "No, silly. I mean Korea. This . . with you is actually . . . actually not so bad." She drifted off to sleep.

Charles remained awake, idly playing with the ends of her hair, listening to the sound of her even breathing. Although they were stuck in a dangerous situation thousands of miles from home, he was content holding her as she slept against his chest.

She was right. It really wasn't so bad.

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

"Sir?"

"Yes, Klinger?" Col. Potter was more than a little exasperated. It was in the middle of the night, two of his staff had gone temporarily insane by volunteering for the front, and to top it all off, Mildred had minor surgery today, and he wasn't there for her.

Klinger fidgeted in the doorway of Col. Potter's office. "Just remember, I didn't have anything to do with it. I'm just a messenger."

Col. Potter took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes wearily. "Spit it out, Corporal."

Klinger sighed. "You know how you told Major Winchester and Lieutenant Callahan to get back here immediately when they were done at the aid station?"

"Yeah?"

"And they did what you said. They left immediately when they were done . . ."

The Colonel did not like where this was going.

"About five hours ago."

"What?" Colonel Potter roared.

"They left the aid station almost five hours ago. Hadn't been heard from since."

Col. Potter flung his glasses on the top of his desk. "Damn!"

"Do you want me to go look for them?" Klinger really didn't want to leave the relative safety of the camp, but he thought he should offer.

"Not with the enemy activity that's been going on around here lately. The fewer of my staff running around the countryside, the better." He thumbed through some papers on his desk, thinking. Finally, he reached a decision.

"Klinger, call I-Corp. Tell them we have a doctor and nurse MIA. Tell them to contact everyone in the area to keep an eye out for them."

"Yes, sir!" Klinger turned on his heel and immediately got to work.

Col. Potter leaned back in his chair. "God help them both."

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

Chirping woke Jessie the next morning.

Never a morning person, especially this morning, she debated taking Charles's pistol and shooting the happily singing bird.

At first, she didn't know where she was. The scratchy ground was rough on her cheek, so she sat up, testing sore muscles and looked around.

Rriiight.

Charles was lying behind her, his arm heavy around her waist. Sometime during the night, they gave up sitting and settled together on the ground beside the jeep.

He stirred next to her and groaned as he tried to rise. "Oh, great."

"What? Don't tell me something else is wrong!"

He grimaced. "My back."

Jessie stiffly rose, brushing dust from her clothes, still stained with blood from the aid station. Together, they worked him into a sitting position. She plopped down wearily next to him.

"No walking, right?"

"Not even close."

Jessie blew hair out of her face. "What do we do? Wait for a patrol to come by?"

Charles shifted and made a face against the pain. "Try to see if you can crank this piece of junk again."

"Don't count on it."

"Who knows? Maybe the jeep fairy came last night and fixed it."

Jessie fixed her eyes on him, wondering how he could make jokes at a time like this. Without warning, a giggle bubbled up from deep inside. "Or maybe the elves. You know, like in the story about the cobbler and the shoes."

"Maybe they wear little green uniforms." He enjoyed the pure merriment that danced in her eyes.

"Army elves! I love it!"

"No laughing! It hurts!"

"Maybe there're elves around here to fix that, too!" Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she collapsed into another fit of giggles.

A noise startled them into silence. She gripped Charles arm in sudden fear, all laughter vanished.

"Did you hear that?" A hollow sensation settled into the pit of her stomach.

"I – I did. I don't think it was elves, either."

Jessie resisted the urge to bury her head in his jacket and hide, craving comfort. Instead, she crawled to the front of the jeep and peeked hesitantly around the bumper, Charles peering after her.

Immediately, she scooted back, her heart beating wildly.

"Chinese!" she whispered, terrified.

He paled. "How many? A patrol?"

She shook her head violently. "N-no. Only two, maybe three. They . . . they were headed this way."

"Did they see you?" Charles tried to get up, but winced at the pain in his back.

"I-I don't think s-so." Jessie was so scared, her teeth were chattering. "But, they obviously w-will see this j-jeep and . . ." She rose to her knees. "We've got to hide!" She pulled on his arm while she talked, trying to haul him to safety.

He tried to stop her, but in her panicked state of mind, she just tried harder.

"Damn it, Jessamyn, listen to me!" Charles hissed, wrenching his arm lose. He unbuckled the holster from his waist. "Take this, and go!"

Jessie stared at him incredulously. "You've gotta be kidding! I'm not going to leave you here!" She hadn't been this terrified since Yung Lee had a knife to her neck.

He shoved the gun belt into her hand, forcing her to take it and pointed towards the woods a short distance away. "Go. I can stall them long enough for you to get away."

Her mind reeled. "No . . .I . . .you . . ."

Charles grabbed her arm and pulled her close, trying desperately to reason with her. "Listen to me. You can't stay. You know what they can do to you."

Jessie nodded dumbly, fighting tears.

"I can't go with you because I'll slow you down. So the only option is for you to go alone."

Charles spoke in an even tone, but Jessie could see the fear in his eyes.

She pressed the gun to his chest. "You keep this . . ."

"If they find me armed, they'll just take it away. If you have it, it might do you some good. Now, go!" He almost shoved her towards the woods.

Jessie shook her head dumbly, panic twisting her mind into a jumbled mess. "Charles . . ."

Impulsively, he reached for her again, grabbing the front of her jacket and pulling her to him.

And he kissed her.

Her mind not quite grasping the strange turn this morning had taken, Jessie put her hands on either side of his face as the kiss deepened, her tears finally falling, hoping to prolong the inevitable.

Just as quickly as he pulled her close, he pushed her away. From him. Towards safety. "Go!" he whispered vehemently.

Running on auto pilot, Jessie ran into the woods, bent over at the waist to avoid detection. With one last glance at him propped against the back wheel of the jeep, she lunged into the safety of the trees, fighting the terror rising in her throat.

Charles watched her go, willing her on, still tasting her tears. When she stopped, he wanted to yell at her to run, but didn't want to draw attention to her retreat. Finally, she dove into the brush, the holster clutched in her hand.

She was safe.

He slumped in relief.

Charles was never one for bravery, but the thought of those Chinese hooligans getting their hands on her was enough to make her safety his first priority. And now, he would pay the consequences, whatever they shall be.

He tried to rise. The least he could do is face his fate with dignity. However, his back wasn't allowing it, and he sank to the ground in defeat.

He could hear them talking among themselves, their shuffling feet drawing closer. Soon, they would walk towards the jeep and find him sitting here. Then . . . what?

Charles broke out into a cold sweat and shut his eyes tightly.

My parents. My sister. Boston.

Jessamyn.

He didn't know why he thought of her. He didn't know why he had kissed her.

Yes . . . he did.

But, she was always O'Reilly's. Now that she wasn't, he didn't know if she would have him.

Not that it would matter in a few precious moments anyway.

The chatter neared the jeep and stopped. Charles opened his eyes, breathing evenly, trying to still his rapidly beating heart. It was thumping so wildly, he almost convinced himself they could hear it.

He caught movement out of the corner of his eyes.

This is it.

One of the soldiers snuck around the side of the jeep cautiously, rifle held protectively. When he spotted Charles, he was so startled, he yelled and fired before he could fully aim.

The shot ricocheted off the ground and dug into Charles's left upper arm, knocking him back against the jeep. He wanted to cry out, but found the pain so excruciating that any noise eluded him.

The whole incident took only a couple of seconds, but felt like an eternity. By now, the other two soldiers had joined their comrade, all talking in excited voices.

Charles gripped his arm and tried not to look at the blood seeping though his fingers. He flexed his left hand. It hurt like hell, but at least he could still move it.

The one with the gun broke away from the group and walked to the nearby woods, searching for other threats, leaving the other two watching Charles warily, both of them unarmed. He had heard that the enemy was having trouble outfitting all their troops, but these men looked mean enough even without weapons.

He hoped Jessie was far, far away by now.

"Umm, gentlemen. If I could call you gentlemen," Charles managed between clenched teeth. "I'm a doctor." He pointed to the red cross on the bag beside him, willing them to understand. "I'm not going to harm you."

How in the hell had it come to this?

The soldier with the gun returned, eyeing Charles suspiciously. He swallowed hard at the menacing look. "Although your animosity is quite obvious."

There was more discussion between the men as Charles tried not to panic. They rummaged through the jeep, taking what they could find once they realized it wouldn't crank, and Charles felt a ray of hope. Maybe they'll leave me. Alive.

After more discussion, the soldier with the gun leveled it on Charles.