A/N: Hawk needs an attitude adjustment lol. He better watch out.


T*H*I*R*T*Y E*I*G*H*T


"So, Major, word on the street is you know our Major O'Hara?"

As he spoke, Colonel Potter shuffled the worn cards. The gathered poker players settled. To his right sat Speirs, leaning back in his chair and sipping a glass of vodka. On his right, Nellie counted her chips. BJ, Hawkeye, Klinger, Margaret, and Father Mulcahy rounded out the rest of the seats in the cramped Swamp. Potter started dealing.

"I know her brother," Speirs replied. He grabbed the cards pushed his way. "Jack and I served in the 5o6th together."

Nellie smiled down at her cards as she took the last one. They'd decided on simple five card draw to start. King of Diamonds, Two of Hearts, Five of Diamonds, Queen of Diamonds, Four of Diamonds. All she had to her name was an almost flush.

"Screaming Eagles! Hot damn," Potter said, grinning. "Bastogne in 1945 was the coldest winter I ever experienced. Made me wish I was a penguin some days."

Speirs looked up from his cards, turning a bit towards Colonel Potter. "You fought there?" Then he glanced back at his hand.

"Yeah, with good ol' General Patton, may God rest his soul." Then he turned left. "Speaking of, Padre, you're up."

With a small scoff around the cigarette he'd lit, Speirs straightened in his chair. Nellie looked at him. She knew how much the paratroopers of the 101st disliked the fame the Third Army had gotten after 'rescuing' them in Bastogne. But Speirs kept his mouth closed. She risked another glance across the table at Hawkeye and BJ. The former squirmed in his chair, but seemed to be trying to focus on the betting making its way to him. BJ, on the other hand, listened with interest.

By the time the betting came to him, he had to put seven dollars in. BJ decided to raise three. "So, Major, what's the best part of jumping out of airplanes?"

"Best part?" He took the cigarette out of his mouth. "Reaching the ground."

Nellie laughed. "Jack always liked the jump best."

With a small scoff, Speirs shook his head. "Reaching the ground meant you didn't get shot in the air."

"Shot in the air, shot on the ground, what's the difference?" Hawkeye ventured. "Bullets do damage every time their fired no matter who or where."

"I'll raise one," Nellie said.

Speirs turned to Hawkeye as he sorted out the money he owed the pot. "The difference, Captain, is if you get shot in the air, it's usually by antiaircraft guns. So you never make it to the ground." He plopped down the eleven dollars in the center. "It's a helluva way to die." Then he paused. "Raise two."

As the gathered poker players put their money in the center, Nellie fell into a rabbit hole of musings. She wondered what it had been like, jumping into combat zones. Jack had done two combat jumps and hundreds of practice ones, but he never talked about the details. Sometimes he would mention his jump into the Netherlands, that it had been easy. But he refused to discuss D-Day.

As if Margaret could read her thoughts, the woman leaned over to look at Speirs. "D-Day must've been horrible. How do you prepare for something like that?"

He shrugged. "You can't."

Speirs fell quiet as talk turned to the others. The game proceeded without too much out of the ordinary. Before long it came down to Hawkeye, Speirs, and Klinger. Night had completely fallen. Outside they could hear the buzzing army lights and chorus of bugs. But inside, the three remaining players focused on the game.

The round went to Speirs. So did the next. For an hour they played poker, some times alternating the five card draw with black jack or seven card draw. Nellie lost quite a bit of money and sat out a few rounds while Klinger, Father Mulcahy, and Margaret left altogether. She had nursing duties to attend to, and the other two had had so much bad luck they decided to call it quits.

Soon it was just the surgeons and Speirs. All night, Nellie had been getting more and more irritated at Hawkeye who seemed intent on poking at the Airborne however he could. It surprised her how Speirs managed to keep his anger in check when she, not even a member of the airborne, wanted nothing more than to yell at Hawk. Maybe it was the presence of Colonel Potter?

After losing yet another round, Nellie sighed and sat back. She threw her cards on the table. A smug BJ Hunnicutt gathered the money from the center. Nellie yawned. "If you'll excuse me, I've lost enough today. I'm going to use what little money I have left to buy myself a drink."

As she stood up, Ron joined her. "I think I've had enough as well. I'll use my winnings to buy you that drink. Can't have you going broke," he added with a smirk.

Nellie smiled as well. "Good night," she told the other surgeons.

"Oh, Major," Hawkeye started, gesturing to Speirs, "make sure you're careful with that cut on your side. Don't do anything too strenuous with her."

Though he tried to keep his tone even, the way he locked eyes with Nellie made her glare. The implication was not lost on her, or him, or the tent as a whole based on the sudden tension all around them. It took a brief pause before Potter cleared his throat and bid them all goodnight. He moved between Speirs and Nellie, thanking the Airborne major for his company that night.

"Your concern is touching, Hawkeye. But I can take care of any problem that might arise," she said. But she could feel her anger rising. "Enjoy your date with your pillow." Wasting no time, she spun around and opened the door to the Swamp. She didn't miss the smirk on Ron's face, or the shocked expression that Hawkeye hadn't managed to hide.

As they strolled side by side towards the Officers' Club, Nellie felt her muscles tensing. How Hawkeye could go from practically wanting to date to flirting with half the camp, and then objecting when she have a good time without him made her want to smack him. Her fists clenched.

"He's a handful," Speirs said.

Nellie looked over at him. In the low light of the spotlights around them, she could just see his creased brown and frown. "I don't know what's gotten into him," she muttered. "He's not usually this bad." Then she shook her head. "One drink, and then you do need to go rest."

"Doctor's orders."

The Officers' Club still had a sizable crowd. About a dozen enlisted and nurses sat around drinking, smoking, or playing cards. Two young men stood at a pinball machine, laughing as the flashing lights and sounds joined the ambiance of the bar. Together they grabbed a table in the back right.

"How is your side feeling, Major?" she asked.

"Call me Ron," he insisted. Flagging down Igor, he ordered a glass of scotch. "You?"

"The same." With a smile, she looked at Ron. "You didn't answer my question, Ron."

He rolled his eyes. But after a moment, he sighed and shrugged. "Painful. But I've had worse."

Silence fell between them for a moment. She just watched him, the way he straightened in his seat at the question and his expression seemed to darken. It reminded her a bit of Jack. Ron couldn't have been more different from him in personality. Jack was loud where Ron would sit and watch. But conversely, Ron's anger would explode. Jack's burned lower but more steady. Even with their differences, she saw in them similar mannerisms whenever talk turned to war.

"I'm worried about Jack," she finally said. Nellie absentmindedly swished the scotch glass she'd been given. Her gaze stayed on the burnt orange particle board table top. When Ron didn't respond, she looked up at him. "Going home wasn't easy," she said. "But I think I got him to a place where he's good. Lately though, I wonder if leaving wasn't a terrible idea."

Speirs took a deep breath. "Everyone copes differently, O'Hara."

"Nellie."

"Nellie," he corrected. Grabbing a pretzel from the basket, he took a moment to chew it and think. Then he turned back to her. "But he can't rely on you forever."

She agreed with him. "I know. But I'm worried that he'll worry about me. Over here," she tried to explain. "It amazes me that you can talk about the war. Jack won't go near it."

Ron scoffed. "Just have to face it head on. What we saw and did I would do all over again. The Krauts, The Japs, the Ruskies, the Commies, they're the enemy. We do what it takes to win." He looked at her again. "Don't you do the same for your position? You do what it takes to advance."

"Yes." Nellie nodded. But then she hesitated.

"It's a game. You just have to play the game," he told her. "Sacrifice a few pieces here and there to win the crown. For those of us fighting, the crown is the end of the war. For you, the crown is success in your field. So treat it like a game. Don't let the war pull you down."

"If only I could get Jack to believe that," she muttered. Nellie took a long drink and closed her eyes. The warmth of the alcohol spread through her body the more she had, calming her down. "He's going to the Dog Company reunion this year, though," she added. "That's a big step for him."

Ron smiled. "It's a good group of men. I hope it helps him."

Despite swearing him to only one drink, Nellie stayed for two. But after the second glass of scotch, she ordered him to bed. Nellie lingered outside his tent door after it closed behind him. The blistering day had given way to a relatively pleasant night and though she knew Ron needed to sleep, the single day of having someone to talk to had now given way to a deep loneliness in the dark. She didn't want to leave the one person who she found companionship in now.

"No one likes a peeping tom, or Tamara."

Hawkeye. Nellie turned to where she found him and BJ wandering back from the showers clothed only in bathrobes and shower shoes. BJ frowned, following behind Hawkeye a bit slower.

Nellie had had enough. Her arms fell to her side as she walked the few steps to Hawkeye. With a glare, she gestured to him. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she hissed. "Seriously, what has gotten into you! Does it offend you that I find Ron's company enjoyable?"

"Ron? First name basis?" He chuckled.

"Hawk," BJ warned.

But Nellie bit her cheek, drawing blood. She stepped closer to Hawkeye, hoping he could see the anger in her eyes. Then it dawned on her. He was jealous. Nellie felt a smile replacing the glare. But she felt no less angry.

"Oh. Oh, I get it now." Nellie took a half step back. "I get it. You love the game, the flirts and the banter, getting me into bed. It's fun for you. The smooth, handsome, rebellious surgeon." Nellie shook her head, the frown returning. "That's fine. It's fine, Hawkeye, if after you win your little game of getting to sleep with me that you start over with the other women. You're an adult. You can do what you want. But don't think for one second that means you have any say over who I do or do not flirt with." She stepped closer again and jabbed him with her finger. "It's funny that you think you have any more right to play this game than I do. Is it because you're a man and I'm a woman? Well guess what, Hawkeye. I don't need you. So keep playing your little games, but don't be surprised if it costs you everything in the end."

She wasted no time in moving away from him and disappearing into her own tent next door. The slam of the door filled the otherwise quiet compound. Hawkeye stood silent, rooted to the spot, BJ beside him trying not to say anything. But he couldn't help himself.

"I hate to say I told you so, but, I told you so." BJ patted him on the shoulder. "Do you want some gin to go with that serving of humble pie?"

With a sigh, Hawkeye turned to him. Kicking rocks all the way back to the Swamp, he didn't respond. He couldn't respond.