Five minutes. She had five minutes to rest, five minutes to recuperate. After five minutes, she'd have to head back inside, back into the endless assembly line of broken, bleeding bodies, a cog in a fragile machine of life and death. 

Nellie fell back into the wooden seat of Pre Op. She took off her mask. The wood felt cool to the touch of her ungloved hands. Eyes closed, head back, she sat simply breathing.

Feeling in her feet had left after their tenth hour in surgery. It seemed that every time they got through the more simple cases, more extreme wounded arrived by chopper or ambulance. By the time daylight had lifted, Post Op was two-thirds full, and the spirit of the medical staff was two thirds empty.

The bench shifted. Nellie didn't check who had sat down. Her focus remained on staying awake, though her eyes insisted on staying shut.

"How you holding up? Jumpin' jackrabbits, we haven't had this many wounded at a time in weeks."

Her eyes opened slowly at Colonel Potter's statement. She turned towards him. "I'm fine, sir."

The tiny, exhausted smile that crept onto his face told her just what he thought of her assertion. "We're all exhausted. I'm as tired as the wings of a bird. But, only a few more to go I hope."

"Yes, sir." 

"You're from Baltimore, right? I had a good friend from there. He loved it." 

Nellie smiled. Despite the pain and numbness, she found herself facing the Colonel again. "I've lived in Baltimore since med school, but I actually grew up in New York City."

"From one big city to another. I never could stand the urban districts. Too loud and busy for my tastes." He paused, his small smile growing. "Mildred and I are working on paying off the mortgage on a little house in Missouri. When this war is all over… I think I'll retire there for good. What about you? Any plans to get married?"

Nellie smirked and shook her head. She pulled herself away from the wall and yawned. Then she answered him. "Maybe if the right man comes around."

"Don't rush it. My own daughter only got married about a half a decade ago."

"What's her name?"

"Evelyn. Pride of my life, alongside my son, James." 

Nellie found herself smiling along. She fastened her surgical mask back over her mouth and stood up. She nearly shouted. Suddenly sitting down didn't seem like it'd been the best plan; her feet, once numb, had now been given enough rest to feel pain again.

"Feeling it again?"

She just grimaced and straightened herself up. With a forced smile, she shrugged and headed back inside. As she pushed on the door and went inside the distinctive stench of rubbing alcohol and blood wafted over to her. The stench, along with the clinking of metal instruments and the orders being spoken by the surgeons made her stop. 

BJ and Hawkeye looked about ready to fall over in exhaustion. While Charles seemed better at hiding it, Nellie figured he was just as tired. As she walked over to her table and called for gloves, a yawn escaped her yet again.

"How long have we been at this?" BJ asked. While his patient was carted away, he let his head fall back to stretch his neck. 

Hawkeye sighed, shrugging his shoulders. As he stood over his patient, he did his best to stretch. "Two years." 

"Not the war. This session."

"An extra-ordinarily long time," Charles added.

Nellie glanced at the clock. "Seventeen hours." Her own voice sounded out of place in the OR for a moment, almost as if she didn't belong. Thoughts of her doubts from the day before crept back in. She forced herself not to think.

Moments later, Klinger came bursting in. Despite his mask, she could tell he was smiling. "Good news. We're fresh out of wounded. Colonel Potter is dealing with the last superficial case as we speak."

A wearied cheer went up from orderlies, nurses, and surgeons alike. Nellie wandered over to Hawkeye's table to see if he needed help, but as she did so, he asked the nurse to close. When Charles insisted he was close to finishing already, she headed straight for the changing room.

Her feet had yet to go numb again, and pain shot all the way up her legs. Nellie hadn't known this level of exhaustion was possible; even in residency, she hadn't worked more than ten hour shifts. Seventeen hours? Unheard of.

As she stripped off the bloodied surgical garments, her eyelids began to droop. The sooner she could get them off, the sooner she could sleep. She'd operated on thirty three patients, some severely injured, others with only superficial wounds. Her limbs ached. Her fingers, stiff from clutching metal instruments, barely worked to button her pants on. Her bed called to her.

Nellie stumbled out of the hospital. Only once she stepped outside did she realize how hard it had started raining. She stopped in the doorway briefly. Taking a deep breath, she then stepped forward, and relished the feel of the cool rain on her achy skin. The compound stayed quiet apart from the rain, almost eerily so. Like zombies, she and the rest of her colleagues moved towards their tents.

Only after a half dozen hours of sleep did Nellie find the ability to communicate with the world again. In an effort to add some happiness to her day, Nellie put Jack's Hawaiian shirt on over a tank top and let it hang loose. The rain had let up when she walked outside. Shari and Peggy sat on lawn chairs, using sticks to play tic-tac-toe in the muddy ground. Besides them, only a few orderlies meandered about.

Just as she stepped out of her tent, she caught sight of Klinger leaving his office. The mailbag on his shoulder made her smile, though she knew nothing would be for her yet. The postal service couldn't work that fast. Still, mail would brighten up everyone's spirits.

"Bigelow! Saba!"

Nellie made her way towards them. The smiles on their faces as Klinger handed out his letters made Nellie smile ever so slightly. 

"Sorry, Major. Nothing for you."

"I didn't expect it," she assured him. "Much mail today?"

Klinger shook his head. Lifting up the mail bag, he gave it a little shake. "Not too much. Mostly stuff that got delayed from the shipment on Tuesday."

"That's good."

"If you'll excuse me! Neither rain, nor sleet, nor wounded shall keep me from my appointed rounds!"

Nellie watched him with a smile as he moved towards the Orderlies' tents. Nothing seemed to phase him. Even a seventeen hour OR session didn't dull his spirits. She envied him.

"My parents sold their house!" Peggy sat up straighter in her chair, glancing over her letter again. "They're moving to Upstate New York."

"Is that good?" said Shari.

"Beats me."

Nellie laughed. "I'm sure they wouldn't be moving unless they wanted to. And that's a pretty area."

"It says here that Mom wants to open a bed and breakfast." Peggy laughed. "I can believe that, but I don't know how that's going to go."

"How long till dinner?"

Shari glanced at her watch. "About half an hour. I saw Pernelli head into the kitchen twenty minutes ago."

"Pernelli. He's the cook right?"

"Hah, yeah. Guess you haven't met him yet?" Bigelow said. "Sergeant Salvatore Pernelli. In a perpetual sour mood, takes no criticism from anyone. I admire his tenacity."

Suddenly, the soft lilting of a classical concerto made its way to them from the Swamp nearby. Bigelow rolled her eyes, but Shari had to hide a smile. Moments later, a shout went up.

"Charles!"

Nellie looked over in time to see a pillow go flying across the Swamp and hit Charles in the face. No change to the music occurred.

"Charles turn that off! Peg could hear that all the way in San Francisco!" 

"Never. You animals may be able to regain your strength by simply sleeping but a Winchester needs more artistic pursuits to achieve this. I shall not turn it off."

"This isn't art it's garbage!"

"Garbage! How dare you call Rachmaninoff garbage."

Nellie laughed to herself and wandered over. She stood against the mesh on Hawkeye's side. Leaning over she spoke through it. "Well, Major, you seem to have struck a nerve with these two."

"What time is it?" BJ asked her.

"About four-thirty."

With a groan, BJ sat up in bed and pulled his fatigue vest over his undershirt. He tossed a pillow at Hawkeye. "Come on. Leave Chuck to his music. It's almost dinner anyways."

Charles visibly winced at the nickname of Chuck. But Hawkeye relented and slipped on his burgundy bathrobe. As they pushed open the door to the Swamp, Nellie met them.

"You two look terrible."

BJ gave a tiny snort. He just shook his head and wandered towards the Mess Tent. Both Nellie and Hawkeye joined him.

"I slept for six hours and my feet are still in pain," Hawkeye muttered. 

"I could do with another six."

Nellie huffed in agreement. With her hands in her pockets, she strolled next to Hawkeye on his right. Because of their overwhelming exhaustion, none of them spoke. The silence from Hawkeye did surprise her.

They slipped into a table in the Mess Tent. The food had yet to arrive, and a few small groups of orderlies and nurses stood or sat awaiting it. Focusing on her breathing, Nellie sat quietly. Breathe in, hold for three, breathe out, hold for three. BJ and Hawkeye exchanged a few comments, but she stayed silent.

"You three look about as enthusiastic as I feel."

Nellie glanced up at the Colonel's comment. His face looked drawn, and Klinger stood next to him looking about as unhappy as him. She glanced between Hawkeye and BJ.

"What now?" Hawkeye asked.

"Let me guess. More wounded?"

Colonel Potter nodded at BJ. He sighed. "We just got the call. We're to expect more in the next thirty-six hours."

"Damnit!" Hawkeye slammed the table. Running a hand through his hair and rubbing his forehead, he growled under his breath. 

"Can't they ever take a break?" 

"No Beej, why would they ever do that."

Potter sighed. "What this means is rest is more important than ever. I don't want my best surgeons wasting their time gettin' drunker than a skunk."

BJ smirked. "Us? Drink?"

"Only to excess."

With a half smirk, Colonel Potter just nodded. He turned away to get some of the newly arrived food, leaving Klinger to scoot in next to Nellie and across from BJ. "Boy, sometimes I wonder how they don't run out of bullets!"

"They never do." Nellie didn't make eye contact with any of them. Her thoughts took her miles away, years away. "This is just the latest war to end all wars."

Hawkeye watched her for a moment before letting out a small, frustrated huff. "Well. The smorgasbord awaits us."

As Colonel Potter sat down with food, the others stood away to get their own. Nellie found the less than spectacular food to be a good distraction from her thoughts that drifted towards home. At least when she had to stuff soggy peas down her throat, worries over the war and her place in it fell to the back.