Seoul, South Korea - September, 1951

"You're out of order, Pierce!"

Colonel Carmichael was not having a good day. His face had gone an amusing shade of puce.

Hawkeye would have laughed if he wasn't so angry. The court martial was a joke. The 'investigation' over the validity of Frank's report and the nature of Hawkeye's relationship with one Captain John X. McIntyre deteriorated quickly into what could only be described as character assassination. Queries expanded into other areas of his private life; debate over his sexual proclivities slipped into an interrogation over his political alignment; some pen-pusher from some branch of Army Intelligence or another had showed up demanded to know the names of any other 'political and sexual subversives' he happened to be fraternising with. Hawkeye had refused to co-operate, and the three old men tutted disapprovingly while Frank sniffed and sneered and made a lot of noise about patriotism and standing up for what was good, decent and American. By the time they started conflating his 'perversion' with Communist sympathising, Hawkeye's patience had run out.

"You're damned right I'm out of order!" Hawkeye was yelling, on his feet in front of a room full of people, all of whom now knew far more about his private life than he cared to disclose. "You're all out of order! This whole place is out of order!"

"Captain, this conduct is not acceptable!"

"I'll tell you what's not acceptable!" Hawkeye strode up to the Colonel, jabbing a finger accusingly towards him. "You depriving the 4077 of two of its best surgeons because you want to know who I'm sleeping with! And you're calling me a pervert!" As Hawkeye ranted, the MPs began to make their way calmly to the front.

"We want to know," the irate Colonel seethed, "in case you happen to pose a danger to national security!"

"A danger to national security?!" Hawkeye practically howled with laughter. "What do you think I'm gonna do? Defect to North Korea because their boys look better in their uniforms? Cheat on MacArthur with Kim Il-Sung? You're out of your mind!"

"That's it. Pierce, you're in contempt!" Colonel Carmichael slammed his case file closed and banged his gavel. "This circus has gone on for long enough!"

"Hear, hear!" Hawkeye applauded, loudly and solitarily, as rest of the courtroom came to order.

"This hearing will reconvene tomorrow. MPs – I want this man detained." The MPs wasted no time in grabbing the furious Captain Pierce to remove him from the courtroom.

"Yes, call the MPs! Call the guards!" Hawkeye was manic with rage, shouting and bellowing, struggling as he was hauled out to the cells. Trapper could still hear him screaming halfway down the corridor. "Barricade the men's showers! Lock up your sons! The Lavender Menace cannot be contained! We are irrepressible! We're lovers and we're dangerous!"

Trapper heard a door bang closed, silencing Hawkeye's voice, and he quietly buried his head in his hands and waited for the rest of the courtroom to file out.

The holding cells were located in a depressing, grey pre-fab annex behind the offices, and by the time Hawkeye heard the barred door lock behind him with a clang and a rattle, he was already thinking better of his outburst. It was cold and draughty, and his itchy Class A uniform offered little protection against the gusts of cold air currently invading his own personal ten-foot-by-ten-foot corner of hell.

"Have you lost your goddamn marbles?"

He turned on his heel, his heart practically leaping into his mouth. "Trapper?!"

But it was hardly a touching reunion. The look on Trapper's face was one of distinct displeasure. "What were you thinkin' – kickin' off at 'em like that? Like we ain't in enough trouble already! What the hell were you tryin'a pull?"

Hawkeye shrugged. "I don't know, but it made me feel better. How did you get in here anyway?"

A little smile crept onto Trapper's face, despite his apparent concern. "Our CO has hidden talents in the art of bullshit." Trapper nodded to the doorway. Henry seemed engrossed in conversation with the guard. "He probably bought us five minutes – or until they twig who I am. Whichever comes first."

Hawkeye glanced through the bars. Henry was currently employing his hidden talents well: "If you're holding one of my doctors overnight, apparently I need you to sign… whatever these are." He produced a bundle of forms from his jacket. "Oh, boy, there sure are a lot! Normally my company clerk deals with this sort of thing, but his gerbil got sick. You know how it is. If you could… uh… yeah, thanks. That's great! Oh, and I think there's one here too."

The guard reluctantly took the bundle of paperwork, and returned to his station to sit and sign.

Henry approached Hawkeye's cell and sighed wearily. "Well, that was real smart, Pierce."

"What are they gonna do? Kick me out of the army twice? Better hope I bounce."

"No, they're keeping you in for the night and fining you."

Hawkeye frowned and stared at his boots. He was calmer now, kicking at the grubby concrete, reclining against the bars of his own private cell with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. He couldn't care less about the money at this stage. "I think it was worth it for the catharsis."

Another sigh from Henry, and he stepped a little closer to the bars, his voice low, tinged with regret. "Well, I think you ought'a know: the Colonel told me he's already made his mind up. I've been ordered to have your stuff packed up and shipped to Seoul by the morning. You're up for sentencing at oh-six-hundred hours tomorrow. There's an early plane leaving Kimpo at seven, and he wants you on it."

Hawkeye shivered. Suddenly, everything felt painfully, undeniably real. He stared over at Trapper, but anything he might say caught in his throat. Every fiber in his being was screaming to gather him up in his arms and never let go, but the bars between them – and the scrutiny of the guard – made such an act impossible.

Trapper merely continued to look at him gravely, his expression somewhere between scowling and mournful. "Congratulations, genius. You get to spend another night in Korea – locked up in a concrete box with Chuckles the Army Cop for company!" Trapper jerked his head towards the MP on guard duty, who was currently doing battle with the paperwork Henry had presented him with.

They stood in silence, the air suddenly still and cold. Henry cleared his throat. "I… uh, I'll be…" He pointed to the guard with his thumb and stepped away, giving them some privacy. "Yo! How are those papers coming along?"

Hawkeye blinked mutely. High on adrenaline, he hadn't noticed anything outside of his own fury and the sound of his own voice. Now, in the cold reality of a military stockade, he realised he was trembling. "So… what are you saying?" He stumbled over the words, feeling strangely numb. "This is goodbye?"

Trapper didn't speak – couldn't speak. He gave a strange shudder, glancing about himself, afraid that any attempt at sentimentality might somehow draw attention and make things worse. 'Like things could get any worse…'

"I don't know what to say!" Hawkeye laughed bitterly at the cruelty of it all, painfully aware of the steel bars between them. His voice echoed in the little concrete room. He hoped Trapper might spare him the agony of coming up with something.

Taking the risk, Trapper moved a little closer, his hands coming up and wrapping around bars of the prison cell, tensed and trembling. He would gladly rip the door away from its hinges if he had the strength. "I'm sorry it had to end like this," he managed to articulate at last, his voice shaky.

"I'm sorry it had to end at all."

Hawkeye's words went without a reply. Trapper merely dropped his head and stared at the floor. "I'm s'posed to be up after you," was all he said. "I figure I got about an hour to get my story straight. I ain't too proud to admit I'm terrified."

"I would be, too. I'm a tough act to follow – especially after that finale." Hawkeye managed a thin, watery smile that did little to distract from the glistening in his eyes.

"Shut up, Hawk." Trapper's tone softened the harshness of his words, and there was a look of concern in his eyes. Hawkeye couldn't resist the urge to step closer. His own hands joined Trapper's, wrapping around the bars just below his, barely touching; Hawkeye's thumb rising just a little to stroke the inside of Trapper's wrist. Trapper startled a little, even now – like it would make any difference if anybody saw them – but didn't move. He simply stood, knowing that this was as much as they would ever get in terms of a goodbye. Just the smallest touch, through the bars of a cell, barely noticeable…

"Hey!"

… but, apparently, not entirely invisible.

Shoving the paperwork into Henry's hands, the guard leapt to his feet. Henry tried, but failed, to stop him. Trapper and Hawkeye flew apart. Hawkeye barely noticed the guard's words, the accusations and the threats he made as he stormed over, pulling Trapper away from the bars. He was focussed utterly on his lover – his former lover – and the look in his eyes as they were pulled apart. His hands dropped limply to his sides, with nothing to cling to now but memory. "Goodbye, Trapper," Hawkeye heard himself saying, detached, his voice echoing in his head.

He waited for a reply as Trapper stared back, ignoring the guard who was now ordering him to get out. At last, Trapper nodded. "See ya 'round," he said at last.

And then he was gone.

It was indecently early in the morning when far more subdued Captain Pierce was returned to the courtroom for sentencing.

He had sat in his cell for much of the afternoon and into the evening, wondering how Trapper was doing; how his hearing had gone; how he had coped. When night fell, sleep didn't come easily. An uncomfortable bed – if a thin mattress flung onto cold concrete could be called a bed – and a fretful mind had not made for much sleep, and he was exhausted. He'd lain awake, imagining Trapper sitting on a plane somewhere over the Pacific, moving further and further away with every second.

Above all else, one memory kept needling at him, and, unconsciously, his hand moved to his chest. Through his shirt, he traced the outlines of the small metal plates that rested at his sternum, and then, with slow, almost timid movements, he slipped a button through its hole and pulled the chain out of his shirt. He lay there for hours, clutching his dog tags, recalling how Trapper had clutched them just the same only a few hours before – tight enough to leave a mark in his palm…

He'd cried – more than he cared to admit to. And now, reddened, weary eyes scanned the room as the scant few individuals who were attending his hearing filed in. Frank skulked at the back looking pleased with himself; Henry headed up towards the front.

It didn't come as a surprise that Trapper wasn't there – of course Trapper wasn't there – and yet, he continued to glance about himself in vain hope and anticipation.

Henry observed his hopeful surveillance of the court as he took his own seat in the row behind, and leaned forward with a grave, apologetic look on his face. "He's already gone, Hawk," Henry whispered, leaning forward and resting a comforting hand on Hawkeye's shoulder. "He flew out last night. I'm sorry."

There is was. Confirmation in plain wording. No frills. No ceremony. "I had a feeling he would." Hawkeye tugged uncomfortably at his collar. "I just…" He just what? He felt so foolish, unable to process this simple, inevitable fact. What had he thought was going to happen? What had he expected? The hope that he still clung to made no sense.

Nonetheless, Henry's face softened and a frown crossed his features. "I know, kid." He patted Hawkeye gently on the back.

There was nothing more to be said. It felt… almost criminal. A brief conversation through the bars of a cell, and Trapper was gone? It didn't seem real; didn't seem possible. Great love affairs didn't end like this.

Still numb, and more than a little nauseous, Hawkeye watched as his deciding panel of three officers – judge, jury and executioner, as Hawkeye had labelled them the previous day – filed in with their notes. The stern-faced Colonel Carmichael regarded Hawkeye with a look of contempt and began muttering through the formalities.

Already, Hawkeye was restless. Again, he turned in his seat. "What did they give him, Henry?"

"Undesirable discharge – and a 'not guilty' on Article 125."

"Oh, thank Christ!"

"Yeah, his defence counsellor was pretty hot stuff. Got the whole thing wrapped up in a half hour."

"He actually bothered with all that?" Hawkeye had refused legal aid and chosen to 'defend' himself, which in retrospect was possibly not the best idea. He'd practically put the prosecutor out of a job.

Henry gave him a pointed stare. "Yeah, well, after your soapbox moment yesterday, he got a little worried. Besides, he's got more to lose."

Henry's words felt like a punch to the gut. His outburst was designed to give a little back to the military – not spook Trapper into thinking he was about to lose his freedom. Would Trapper's lasting memory of him paint him as nothing more than the man who nearly got him sentenced to six months of hard labour?

Colonel Carmichael bellowed Hawkeye's name, and he whipped around. "Huh? What?"

"I said," the Colonel enunciated with a tight smile, "would Captain Pierce please stand?"

Hawkeye stood. He refused to respond with the customary 'yes, sir', nor did he particularly stand at attention. Colonel Carmichael didn't seem all that surprised. He didn't even comment.

The Colonel continued in a rather bored tone: "I'll begin with the small issue of your conduct yesterday evening." He cleared his throat and clasped his hands neatly over Hawkeye's case file. "Captain Benjamin Franklin Pierce, on the afternoon of September 28th you were removed from this courtroom following an outburst that was both disrespectful of your superiors and unbecoming an officer of the United States Army. This hearing has, after consideration, found you guilty of contempt of court. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Hawkeye stared back in a way that wasn't much more respectful than he had been the day before. He gave a thin smile. "Oh, I'm very sorry about that, Colonel. Very sorry for any disrespect. I've thought very hard about what I said, and I swear I'll never behave in such an appalling way again."

Colonel Carmichael nodded and made a small note in his book. "Thank you, Captain."

"For as long as I'm an officer in the United States Army."

Carmichael twitched. Hawkeye smirked. Carmichael scowled at him. "The sentence," he spat, "is a five hundred dollar fine, but in the interests of streamlining the proceedings here, I have decided to be lenient. You will therefore forfeit your outstanding pay for this month – a sum of three hundred and thirteen dollars and fifty cents. I now consider this matter closed."

Hawkeye practically breathed a sigh of relief as he returned to his seat, draping himself over the back of his chair so he could lean back and talk to Henry. "Oh, well that was nice. Wasn't he nice?"

"Don't bother sitting down, Pierce. I don't plan on dragging this out any longer than is absolutely necessary. You've wasted enough time, and now you've had a night in the cells to cool off, I trust you'll allow us to proceed?"

Standing once more, Hawkeye tried to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. Sweat prickled the back of his neck, and the room seemed to tilt in a quite nauseating fashion as he tried to keep his balance. "Please, continue." He forced a smile.

Carmichael cleared his throat and clasped his together in a rather severe manner. "Captain Pierce, you were brought before this military court on a charge of sodomy – a charge which, I'm sure you know, carries a potential sentence under this Special Court-Martial of the United States Army of six months unpaid labour, or three months imprisonment."

"How could I forget?"

"After some consideration, it is the decision of the Court that this charge be dropped. It is my conclusion that, aside from a somewhat… emphatic eye-witness testimony by Major Burns, there is not sufficient evidence to secure a conviction."

"I bet there was!" Frank's irate voice piped up from the back. "You just weren't looking hard enough!"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Oh, knock it off, Frank! What do you think we did – take pictures?"

"Pierce!" Henry's warning was little more than a nervous hiss, but Hawkeye buttoned his lip.

Carmichael eyed him disdainfully. "However, it is more than apparent from the evidence given and from your conduct in this very courtroom that you are, in my opinion, a man of questionable moral principles, and as such, unfit for military duty. Efforts made by a court-appointed psychiatrist to assess your mental condition were met with fierce resistance and contempt…"

"I don't answer to any psychiatrist that isn't Sidney Freedman."

"… and you are, by your own admission, a homosexual."

"Hey, wait – I never said that!"

The Colonel sighed and flipped through his notes. "Captain Pierce, under questioning yesterday, when you were asked if you engage in sexual relations with other men, you responded 'never on a first date'. It seems to me that you are not only blatant in your sexual deviancy, but also failing to take this military proceeding seriously."

Hawkeye sighed. His anger welled up again, only less fierce. He was exhausted with procedure, worn out with questioning, deprived of sleep, starved of food, and emotionally drained. What little spark was left felt like defeatism rather than contempt, but he couldn't just stay silent. He gave an elaborate, dramatic shrug of disdain. "Well, what do you expect? I know as well as you do that you'd made your minds up about me before I'd even walked in the damned room. The only reason you didn't toss me out with a discharge at the pre-hearing was because Frank was determined to see me breaking rocks in Leavenworth. So how about we stop wasting each other's time and cut to the ceremonial slaughtering of my promising career in medicine on the Grand High Altar of the Great God Conformity, patron deity of the United States Church of McCarthy?"

As Hawkeye stood there, he thought he saw something approaching regret flicker across the Colonel's face. But, whatever it was – if indeed he had seen anything at all – vanished soon enough, as he picked his gavel up from the desk. "Very well." He sighed and squared his jaw, looking every inch the stern, disapproving Army officer. "It is the decision of this court that Captain Pierce be discharged from the United States Army, due to his being an undesirable candidate for Military service. Sentence to be carried out with immediate effect, followed immediately by removal to United States soil at earliest convenience – if not sooner. Case closed." The gavel landed with an almost understated little rap of wood on wood. "Captain Pierce, would you please stand front and centre and face the court?"

It wasn't a request.

Hawkeye felt numb. He stepped up to the front of the court and turned to face the tiny assembled crowd. He couldn't look a single one of them in the eye. Not even Henry, who looked more apologetic than admonishing. Hawkeye heard the Colonel address a fellow member of the panel, and a moment later, a severe-looking Major with pinched features and steel spectacles stepped in front of Hawkeye, and began reciting some painfully formal discharge script.

Hawkeye tried his best to blank him out. He wasn't interested in hearing the elaborate pomp and ceremony by which he was about to be condemned to lifelong unemployability. He focused his gaze on the back wall of the little wooden courtroom, and found himself wishing he'd just played along and got this over and done with the day before. At least then Trapper would have been here. At least he'd have had a friendly face to focus on.

He was vaguely aware of his rank and insignia being plucked from his uniform. He hadn't expected that to sting so, but then he couldn't help but notice that this whole debacle was designed to humiliate him. They didn't call it a 'degradation' for nothing, and somehow the thought actually made him steel himself in an attempt to stand strong in the face of it all.

Except he didn't feel strong. When the ritual was completed and punctuated with a sneering "good riddance!" from Frank, Hawkeye's knee-jerk "shut up, Frank" lacked his usual bite.

The officer who had just relieved him of his commission gestured to him to sit down.

"Do I have to salute?" Hawkeye heard himself asking in a somewhat uncharacteristic display of subordination.

The bespectacled Major's thin mouth twitched into something of a smile, and Hawkeye realised that he'd actually taken pleasure in this. "Civilians don't salute, Doctor."

The comment – clearly meant to be scathing – was actually quite liberating. It was all over – like a Band-Aid being torn from an old wound. He was free. Hawkeye slipped back to his seat. "I think he just tried to insult me," he muttered to Henry. "That's cute."

Colonel Carmichael glared at him but made no further comment. "Arrangements have been made for Doctor Pierce's removal to US soil forthwith, travel papers to be issued immediately. This court is now closed."

Another tap of the gavel, and a moment later both the overseers and the spectators to Hawkeye's downfall began to file out. Frank was gossiping excitedly to the court clerk about how he wanted transcripts for his personal journal, and Hawkeye tried to convince himself that having this experience documented for posterity by none other than Frank Burns didn't make him more than a little uneasy.

Outside, the corridor seemed unusually crowded as numerous J-Corps personnel pushed past them. Henry stuck close by, not speaking, but lingering, his presence a strange source of comfort.

As he was led away, Hawkeye turned and scanned the crowd on reflex. His heart leapt at the sight of the back of a curly head of blonde hair – and then, just as suddenly, he remembered.

"He's gone, Hawkeye." Henry said flatly, once more reading Hawkeye like a book.

Hawkeye's face fell. "Yeah… yeah, I know." Suddenly, he felt sick all over again, and, with a heavy heart, Henry Blake led the former Captain Pierce out towards the exit. Hawkeye followed, strangely docile.

They sat, for a short while, atop Hawkeye's footlocker as they waited for his assigned Jeep. Hawkeye turned his discharge papers over and over in his hand. It all seemed so… pragmatic. Plain, unembellished upper case script read: 'Undesirable discharge from the Armed Forces of the United States of America. This is to certify that Benjamin Franklin Pierce, 19905607, AMEDD, was discharged from the United States Army on the 29th day of September 1951 as undesirable.' His name and serial number were just typed onto a line in the middle of the page. A further page gave all the delightful details of his transgressions in black and white.

"It's not even blue," he thought aloud, half joking. "Did they run out of blue paper in World War Two?" Henry didn't reply, and Hawkeye got an awful sinking feeling. He nudged the Colonel playfully with an elbow. "Oh, come on. Don't be that way. I've lost too many friends over this. Don't send me home with your disappointment hanging over my head, too."

Henry sighed and looked up. "Hawkeye…" Henry addressed him using his nickname, and it didn't sound quite right. Hawkeye shivered. It was an unusually warm morning, and they were sitting in the dusty parking lot out the back of a US Army prefab admin block in the outskirts of Seoul, and Hawkeye knew that the reason he felt so unpleasantly cold had nothing to do with the weather. Henry continued: "I want to make it absolutely clear to you. I'm not disappointed you're a fairy. I'm disappointed that you got caught."

Hawkeye actually laughed. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to actually be open with someone, and suddenly he wished that he'd confided in Henry sooner. "I'll be sure to tuck my wings into my shirt in future."

"Yeah, well you'd better, because there'll be consequences once you get back, kiddo. This isn't going to be the last you'll hear of this."

"Yeah, I know." Hawkeye couldn't quite get his head around it. He'd heard this time and time again over the past few days, and yet… a civilian life where one piece of paper outweighed a decade of medical training and experience was quite beyond his mental grasp. "But look on the bright side – maybe now the Army can send you a chief surgeon who actually listens to you; someone who salutes and says 'yes, sir' and who actually turns up for reveille with his boots on – not to mention the rest of his uniform; someone who doesn't go through your liquor cabinet during personnel meetings."

"Very funny, Pierce."

"Do me a favour though, Henry? Hmm? Look after everyone for me? I cared about a lot of those people – even though, as it turns out, a lot of them didn't care about me a much as I'd thought. But they're a good bunch. So, you take care of them, and while you're at it, take care of yourself. I expect to see a postcard from Bloomington, Illinois in my mailbox someday soon, you hear?"

Henry didn't reply. He stared thoughtfully into the middle distance for a while, his brow creased in thought. At last, he turned, looking at Hawkeye with concern knitted across his features. At last, he spoke: "You went through my liquor cabinet?"

Hawkeye grinned. He was spared further questioning as a Jeep pulled up beside them, and the sergeant behind the wheel barked his name from a clipboard.

"That'll be my cab."

They loaded Hawkeye's belongings together, as the sergeant refused to help him once he'd seen his papers. Hawkeye was then banned from the front seat and forced to crouch in the back with his luggage. He folded himself awkwardly into the small gap, and Henry shook his hand over the top of the duffel bag.

"Try and stay out of trouble, kid," Henry warned him.

"I'll try – and no doubt fail spectacularly."

Henry smiled. "Abyssinia."

Hawkeye responded with a smile of his own – a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Abyssinia, Henry."

The Jeep lurched forward. Hawkeye grabbed the back of the seat to hang on for dear life, and Henry disappeared into the dust.

Chapter notes: Once again, thank you to my former RP buddy, George, for the suggestion of using a line from the book in this chapter. 'We're lovers and we're dangerous' is used by Hawkeye in the book (under somewhat different circumstances) and George recommended that he utter it here. The idea stuck. :)

Also many thanks to all our readers for the amazing discussions we've been having via Tumblr and other platforms. It's always fantastic to hear your thoughts, so please do feel free to get in touch with us. Quite a short update tonight in comparison to Cap's epic instalment last week, but a highly eventful one in its own way. Enjoy!