Hawkeye and the others wasted no time in packing their meager belongings and checking out of their hotel to go downtown to the next one. Save for Klinger pulling out his curlers and taking twenty minutes to brush out what was left of his hair, the five of them ran out of the door and hailed for a few bicyclists. Achieving to get three of them and using up almost what was left of their money, the five jumped in and directed their drivers to the next hotel.

It had been an hour since the call from Pyle. It was about noon in Tokyo. They had a few precious hours left to rescue the camp and all five knew it.

Kellye, who was sitting next to Hawkeye in the first carriage, was nervous still. "Are you sure this is such a good idea?" she asked him, doubt lining her voice as she thought of worse things. "I mean, we don't know these people and this seems too good to be true. We might be falling into Major Floyd's hands."

"What choice do we have, Madam?" Hawkeye asked her in return (mocking Gone with the Wind at the same time), patting the envelope he held in his jacket closely. "Frankly, my dear, I still don't give a damn, but I don't see another way there and out of this right mess."

"I don't either, which is what is making me so jittery. I mean, we could have given ourselves in and hoped for the best instead of playacting it."

"And let them have these papers? I don't think so!"

Kellye was quiet for a moment before speaking again. "Captain, aren't you afraid?"

"Afraid? What do you mean, Madam? What is this 'afraid' thing you are speaking of?"

"Well, aren't you scared of these people? Or even the war? From the beginning, you just seemed determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. Now, you have and it's not much of one, if you think about it and dug in the right places. And, if you also look a little further, you seem to find people more vicious than what we are supposed to be fighting against at this time. This last week, in general, has been the most exciting, although the most frightening, of my life. I don't know about you, but being accused of the murder of a spy, going to Tokyo and getting the camp rescued is about all that I can take right now. Getting back to nursing is what I am looking forward to right now. Better yet, going back home would be nicer."

Crabapple Cove's sea breezes almost sounded in Hawkeye's ears, but he stilled them. Instead, he only smiled his famous grin.

"This has been a little more than unusual, I'll tell you," he admitted.

"But wouldn't you like to get back to normal, back to work?" Kellye asked Hawkeye, soon seeing him turn very serious.

"I honestly don't know. I don't know what the lesser of two evils would be. Both involve war, death and revenge. At least bringing justice to one would be worth my while."

"Would you say, then, that you like Major Houlihan?"

"As a friend always," Hawkeye quickly said, but it was too quickly, even for him.

Kellye only nodded, knowing the truth, and turned around to see Charles and BJ in the carriage behind them. She observed that both were not speaking to each other, but had appeared to have gotten into an argument just recently (which might have explained their silent treatment of the other). Although she had heard nothing from her end, Kellye was sure that the two had somehow wordlessly fought over something silly, as they normally did, and had chosen to not talk to each other for a while.

At least, until we get to the next hotel and then get back to Korea.

Fear, at least, did not seem to be on their minds like hers was. Believing that they might have traveled into a false sense of security would not get out of Kellye's mind. Nor did the image of being tied up with blacks bags over their heads help her ease herself either. There seemed to be too many possibilities for this plan to go wrong and wrong fast.

Kellye shook her head, looking past BJ and Charles to the last carriage, where Klinger was. Grooming himself on front of a hand mirror held by shaking knees, Klinger continued to brush his hair and put his makeup on. He also adjusted his summer dress of the day (pink with a lace collar and matching hat and parasol) and put more cotton balls into his bra as he looked himself over in the mirror. Or, more accurately, soft balls of what looked like cotton to Kellye.

Oh, this won't end. Come what may, life might never be the same again. We could go back to our ordinary lives, back to work, and still remember these events. If we fail, though, we'll be in a place that we could never imagine, beyond our wildest dreams.

The nurse gulped, but not loud enough for Hawkeye to hear her. Done with her observations, she faced forward and stared out into the busy streets of Tokyo, which grew more dense as they passed block after block. She intended to forget her own nightmares, but it seemed just too easy to get lost into the colors and noises that dominated what Hawkeye called "The Pearl of the Orient".

~00~

That next morning seemed the same for Margaret, just like the rest of them, those days when she was in captivity. She woke up around eleven after having spent most of the night awake (not to mention, having given more time to sleep), stretched her arms and legs, and sat down for what seemed to be another endless day. However, this late morning, when she awoke, she realized that she had less room to play with. When she turned her head, she saw Father Mulcahy, sitting with his head bowed and his hands folded perfectly, as if it took more effort with the chains they possessed on them.

Why, he's praying!

The revelation of it hit her hard. She, too, had prayed to God for help, but that had only brought worse things, much worse than the enemy coming to charge them and going mobile with so many wounded. She had thought of abandoning the notion of praying, even before Father Mulcahy had come to share her quarters with her, but with so much more going on, asking for help from above did not seem like such a bad idea. After one, believing in something that can help gave Margaret some hope of survival – to her life, career and reputation.

Margaret then watched Father Mulcahy for a while, even quietly praying along with him when his lips moved and she could decipher what he was saying and can follow along. Finally, when he crossed himself, he noticed Margaret sitting there foolishly almost, staring at him with open lips in prayer.

"Why, Major Houlihan, what a lovely day this is!" Father Mulcahy seemed cheerful, even though he showed the signs of his short captivity and ordeals. Dark circles rounded his eyes and his blonde hair was turning a little white from the stress. "It seemed to be a little cooler now, don't you think?"

Margaret was appalled by his optimism and showed it. "Father, how could you say something like that? We're stuck in here, unable to defend ourselves, and are going to Seoul this evening. And all you talk about is what a lovely day this is and how much cooler it is!"

"Major, I don't think you quite understand. We are living another day and have not died. In addition, even though others may think we are guilty of crimes we did not commit, there are those above us who know the truth. And that's all that matters to me, should matter to all of us."

"But our lives will be ruined!"

"And our Earthly torments will be relieved somehow. It only takes a little faith to know that, even if we spent the rest of our lives in torture, our heavenly one will no longer be a burden on our souls. Major, don't you have faith in God and His wondrous ways?"

"Well – I thought I did, but things are bad, Father." Margaret would not admit much and said the obvious, but she had the feeling that Father Mulcahy might have known more than she was leading on and was not going to show it, even if he doubted a lot of things lately too.

Well, not yet, anyway. Father Mulcahy always knew more than he led on and Margaret had some sneaky suspicion that he even knew who had done what to her in the past, even if she could not prove it. However, now was not the time to demand who had changed the color of her hair dye or put spam in her hat. Now was the time for faith.

"But you cannot lose faith, even when there is no hope," Father Mulcahy said gently, hiding his own misgivings. "Besides, Major, don't you have faith in Hawkeye?"

Margaret snorted, to keep her true feelings at bay. "Him? Really, Father?"

"Yes, Major, I am talking about the same man who would stop at nothing to keep this camp safe and sound."

"Are we talking about the same man who would tear down my tent during a date or even put pudding in my pillow?"

"Well, you must admit, Hawkeye has been a genius with pranks and silliness," Father Mulcahy admitted himself. "However, that same determination has also left hundreds, if not thousands already, of wounded people – soldiers, civilians, children and enemies – alive as well, even when people had left them for dead. Maybe, with the so little faith that you have, you can put your problems with God? I'm sure He's helping Hawkeye along."

Margaret sank in her seat, silent as the door opened unexpectedly and Corporal Wright arrived with their meals. "One more meal," he said to himself as Margaret and Father Mulcahy strained their ears to listen to his words. "One more meal and we're going back to Seoul. I can't wait."

As Corporal Wright left, Margaret turned back to Father Mulcahy, smiling as if the words she heard were the greatest news ever. "Maybe you're right, Father. I should have more faith. We have until tonight. Hawkeye must be closer to getting us freed, right? I mean, I haven't heard otherwise that he's been captured and stayed someplace more permanent."

Father Mulcahy put a hand on Margaret's cold shoulder. "That's right, Major. Now, let's thank God for this meal and wait for some news, shall we?"