"Ah, there we go," Charles said, wrapping up the wing. "Does that feel any better?"

The little bird simply looked up at the Bostonian, obviously not understanding a single thing he said.

Charles kept an eye on her as she began to hobble about his desk. Thankfully, wrapping up the wing in a splint wasn't to difficult. The bird seemed to understand that Charles was merely trying to help, and kept still the whole time.

Of course now wandering the desk, the bird once again discovered the birdwatcher's book and the many pages that could be chewed up.

"Don't even think about it," Charles said, scooping the bird up in his hands. Just as he was about to set her down on his cot (where he hoped she could do the least damage), Hawkeye walked back in.

"Ya know, being a scavenger is hard work," he said defeatedly.

"No luck with food?"

"None at all. But I did fill the box up with grass and a few twigs."

"Where's Hunnicutt?"

"Still trying to find something for Charles to eat."

"I see." Charles walked over to Hawkeye and gently placed the bird down in its new home.

Hawkeye grinned and let out a chuckle.

"What is it?"

"The bird. You really care about this bird, don't you?"

Charles sighed and wiped his hands on his fatigues as if to rid himself of the bird's filth. "Pierce, I'm simply doing this because you roped me into this feathery mess!"

"No, no, no! You care about her!" Hawkeye scooped the bird back out of the box and held her in front of Charles. "Look Charles in the eyes and tell her you don't care about her!"

Charles leveled himself with the bird and looked straight into her beady black eyes. "I don't care about you."

Hawkeye let out a dramatic gasp and held the little bird close to his chest. "She has feelings you know!" He looked down at Charles and gave her a pat on the head, "he didn't mean it."

"You sound just like Corporal O'Reilly."

"Come on, just admit it. I promise not to tell anyone you're anything but rotten!"

Charles glanced at his fellow surgeon with a smirk. "Fine. I'm concerned about the filthy little thing's state of health, and- goodness... I suppose I am fond of your disease-ridden bird."

"Ahhhha! I knew somewhere in that cold major there was a soft heart!"

"It's still vile and wretched, much like you," Charles said with a smile that seemed both condescending, yet sincere.