Hawkeye and Nellie strode side by side down the road the short distance to Rosie's Bar. The front looked about as dilapidated as Nellie had predicted. Wood and sheet metal comprised the walls and roof, and a sign with the painted word "Rosie's" welcomed weary travelers. In the dark of Korea at midnight, a warm glow emanated from inside.

"Cozy," Nellie said.

As she went inside, the smell of beer and cheap liquor hit her nose. Half a dozen patrons, mostly American soldiers, lounged at the wooden tables. At the side of the bar near another doorway, a youthful Korean woman cleaned a table. She picked up crumbs and used glasses.

Hawkeye grabbed an open table in the middle. Nellie slid in next to him, the grin on his face widening as the Korean bartender came over. He gestured to her. "Rosie, meet Nellie, Nellie, Rosie. She's the finest bartender this side of the 38th Parallel."

"Flattery won't get you free drinks, Hawkeye," she deadpanned. Then she turned to Nellie. "New nurse?"

"Surgeon, actually," Nellie corrected.

Rosie's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "I thought only men were surgeons in US army?"

"Until recently, yes," said Nellie. "I'm glad to be one of the first."

"Well, let me tell you. No discounts here even for a woman surgeon. And all my drinks are legit. I want no trouble with any MP's, so don't let this one get you into a mess." She gestured to Hawkeye.

Immediately he protested her comment. "When was the last time you had trouble from me." He smiled at her innocently, his eyes squeezing shut in the process.

"How about three weeks ago when you and the rest of you medical people got me closed from the MPs! It took me a week just to reopen!" She turned from Hawkeye to Nellie so he couldn't reply. With a tight smile, she continued. "What'll it be?"

"Just a beer, please."

Hawkeye ordered the same. Rosie left them to go get their drinks. At the entrance of three more soldiers, Nellie glanced up. Her mind wandered, wondering who they were. They didn't seem to be from the 4077th.

"So you said you're originally from New York?"

Hawkeye's question pulled her back into the present. She nodded. "Born and raised. My parents lived there until their deaths. I only moved out of the City for college and med school." Rosie set down their drinks. Taking the lukewarm glass beer bottle in her right hand, Nellie ran her fingers over the ridges. "It was fine. I prefer Baltimore."

"I did my residency in Boston," Hawkeye said. He took a drink before continuing. "I visited New York City a few times."

"You said you're from Maine?"

"Crabapple Cove." At the mention of his hometown, his smile grew. The sides of his eyes wrinkled ever so slightly in pride and happiness. He shook his head. "Best place to grow up, ever. Anyone who says otherwise is lying."

Nellie laughed. She took a drink. "You're mighty sure of yourself."

"Crabapple Cove is where a kid can be a kid. Rolling greenery, storms with buckets of snow to stop everything in winter. You can sled or go fishing or just run around." Hawkeye played with his beer bottle absentmindedly. "It's just…"

"Your parents still live there, then?"

Hawkeye nodded. "My dad does."

"Right, he's the doctor?" She nodded, remembering their first conversation about Crabapple Cove.

"Right. He helped birth basically the entire population since he set up his practice. Not that that's many people. It's a small town." After a pause, he continued, "My mother passed away when I was a kid. It's just the two of us, though I do have a few cousins who are almost like sisters."

Nellie smiled. The wooden chair she sat on was mildly uncomfortable, and she had to shift position. She leaned more forward on the table and grabbed a small pretzel from the sparse pretzel basket. "Jack and I moved in together after our parents died and I moved to Baltimore for med school. Neither of us are in relationships, and he had just moved back to the States from Honolulu around the time I finished pre-med."

"How did your family feel about you wanting to be a surgeon?" Hawkeye asked. Leaning forward, he couldn't hide his curiosity.

Nellie shrugged. "My mother was slightly opposed. She always wanted me to learn to be a good housewife and give her grandchildren." A tiny smile crossed her face. Then she let out a small laugh at the memory. "I was great at cleaning and sewing. Lousy at cooking. My dad though, he was always behind me. He and Jack. Once I told my mom to just think of surgery as sewing up the human body, she came around to the idea."

Hawkeye let out a laugh at her statement. With a quick yet dramatic last drink of his beer, he slammed his bottle onto the table. "That's one way to think about it."

"It worked." She chuckled. Giving a tiny shrug, she downed some more of her own beer. "Did you choose to be a doctor because of your dad?"

"Yeah, I guess. Seeing him change lives with medicine… it changed my own. He always loved his patients. They mean everything to him." He trailed off, drumming his fingers on the table. Then he looked up. "Rosie!"

"Another beer?" When he nodded, she continued, "Let me see the money first."

"Rosie you know I'm good for it!"

She shook her head. "Money."

Hawkeye snorted and took out some bills from his pocket. "Here. This should cover all three of the drinks."

"Beer, coming right up."

Nellie watched him trade the money for the beer. She appreciated him covering her tab. He seemed fidgety, ever more than usual. Clearly the topic of medicine caused him some kind of struggle. "How long have you been over here?"

"A lifetime of hell," he snapped out.

With a small frown, Nellie sat back in her chair, away from him. She had caught glimpses of his anger before. It seemed that like his flirting and his laughing and his smiling, that his anger was both quick to happen and passionately strong.

He sighed. "Coming up on two years. Every time I get close to discharge, they increase the tour for surgeons." Tightly he gripped his fists. "Between the summers that make you want to strip and the winters that freeze your limbs off, with the endless malaria mosquitoes and of course the goddamn war, it's our own personal hell out here."

"I'm sorry."

Hawkeye didn't say anything in response. He just shook his head. "Feel bad for yourself. You're here now." He took another drink.

She hummed in acknowledgement. But at the same time, as much as she expected herself to dislike the rats and the food and the weather and the war itself, the prospect of advancing in her career here was attractive. Sidney's voice echoed in her mind. Why, why did she feel the need to prove herself better than the rest. What caused this drive for recognition? Nellie herself was only partially aware of it.

"Why did you ever volunteer to come to this hell hole?" Hawkeye had resisted asking the question, but he couldn't control his curiosity any longer. He leaned towards her across the wooden table top.

Nellie stiffened. Memories of the exact same conversation flashed before her eyes, but that time it had been between her and Molly. She could still remember the shouting match they'd had in Molly's sitting room. Anger fed both women, one fueled by anger at the army, and the other fueled by anger at restrained ambition. She felt heat rising to her cheeks. The grip she held on the beer bottle turned her knuckles white. Finally she took a deep breath through her nose and sat straighter. "I saw an opportunity and I seized it."

"This isn't an opportunity, this is a disaster," Hawkeye argued immediately. "Everything here stinks. The food, the beds, the war."

"If you were back home right now, where would you want to work?"

The question caught him off guard. "Probably a hospital somewhere."

"You'd want to be a world class surgeon, I'd imagine. I saw you work. You're several steps above the usual surgeons."

"Well, yeah-"

Nellie cut him off. "You've seen me work. What do you think?"

"You graduated Johns Hopkins," he pointed out. "You're fantastic, but-"

Again, she shook her head. At the same time, she abruptly set her beer bottle back in the table after a drink. "Back in the States, my best friend, Molly, is struggling to stay employed. She's a top-notch surgeon. We graduated 6th and 7th at Johns. But after med school, she moved west. She had no contacts there in the working world. Zero. So she had to start new." Nellie frowned. "No one wants a female surgeon. There are some people trying to help her, some men in the field who she's befriended, but the older men in the system keep stopping her advancement."

"Sorry."

"Not your fault." She frowned again. "I was fortunate. Johns Hopkins invited me to stay and do Residency there at the hospital, and then offered me a position afterwards. I didn't have to start from nothing for my job. I'm a damn good surgeon. But where am I in the hospital hierarchy? Second from the bottom. Who's at the top? A man whose family name bought him the position."

Hawkeye stayed quiet. He didn't stop holding his drink, but it stayed on the table. As she continued, he just listened.

"Then six months ago I get a call. It's from some general in the Army. He'd been an acquaintance of my brother's during his time in the service. I'm given an opportunity to join the army. I'm given an opportunity to do something no woman has ever done. I'm given a chance at real respect. And I can help people along the way."

Hawkeye let out a small breath. He straightened up. "Well. I'm still sorry."

"So am I. I'm sorry that the only option I had to advance my career was by being sent to Korea." Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the table in her left hand. Tears threatened to pool up in her eyes, but she restrained herself. Her breath continued to hitch as she did so, and her cheeks flushed. She could feel it. She could hear Molly yelling at her for her choice, but more than that, she could hear herself screaming back.

Hawkeye clearly noticed. He stood. "Come on. The walk past the minefield is brilliant this time of night."

"You go. I might grab another drink," she argued quickly. To her embarrassment, she could hear the quavering in her own voice. She cleared her throat. "I'm really not tired."

But Hawkeye just laughed. "Come on. What kind of non-date would this be if you didn't let me walk you back! After all I am a world renowned perfect gentleman."

"Fine." Nellie shook her head as she stood from the table. She took out a dollar from her pocket and left it as tip for Rosie.

When they walked outside, Nellie wrinkled her nose. The wind came from the direction of the cesspool. So despite the pleasant temperature, it was hardly enjoyable. A full moon shined down on them. Only a few clouds floated across the sky, obscuring various constellations she couldn't identify.

"Of the women who got the offer, did you know any of them?" Hawkeye asked. They walked down the side of the road, his hands in his pockets.

"Not of the ones who accepted. Molly was invited but she declined." Nellie shrugged, one arm across her chest holding the other. "The other four who agreed to come were from other hospitals."

He nodded. Soon they passed under the sign for the 4077th. To the left, orderly tents lined the side. They passed these in silence. Then came the nurses tents, and Father Mulcahy's. Nellie's tent came last.

"Thanks for paying," she said quickly. "I now owe you, which I don't like." Hawkeye just laughed, and she found it infectious. It made her smile.

"I'm sure I'll figure out a way to make that useful," he joked.

Nellie rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you will. Good night." After he echoed her sentiments, she went inside her tent. She was exhausted. As soon as it was just her in her tent, she found it difficult to keep her eyes open. But she wanted to write her brother before sleeping.

She turned off the hanging light over her bed and just left on the one at her desk. It let off a soft glow. The paper she pulled out of her desk seemed off white in the pale lighting. She took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. Taking her pen in her hand, she stared down at the paper. She had told herself that her next letter would be to Molly, but too many emotions churned inside her for that.

"Dear Jack,

We saw Casablanca tonight-"

She stopped. Nellie glanced at the clock. In Baltimore, it was a little after noon. She set her pen down. Why not call him?