A Pierce Too Many

A Splash of Chaos and a Touch of Love

The oppressive heat bore down on the 4077th, transforming the OR into a pressure cooker. It was the kind of day where the air felt heavy, sweat poured in rivers, and exhaustion hung in the corners of every room. Inside the OR, the team was six hours deep into non-stop surgeries. Hawkeye and B.J. traded tired barbs across the operating tables, Potter oversaw the flow of patients, and Frank, as always, grumbled his way through the day. Violet worked her own table, steady hands moving with precision over the wounded soldier in front of her.

"Next clamp," she called out, her voice muffled by her mask.

The nurse handed her the tool, and Violet focused on the delicate shrapnel embedded dangerously close to a major artery in the soldier's abdomen. The piece gleamed under the bright surgical lights, its jagged edge a reminder of the chaos just outside the camp. She bit her lip, her gloved hands pausing.

"Could someone help me here?" Violet finally said, her voice tinged with a rare hesitation. "I'm not sure about the shrapnel fragment. It's close—too close—for my liking to the artery."

Colonel Potter, working on the next table, glanced over. "All right, Vi, let's take a look. Nurse, take over here," he instructed, stepping to her side.

Potter peered into the wound, his experience evident in the way he quickly assessed the situation. "Okay, I'm going to retract the tissue. Keep an eye on that fragment, and for Pete's sake, stay steady. If it slips—"

But as he adjusted his hold, the fragment shifted, catching on the artery.

"Oh, hell," Potter muttered just as blood sprayed upward in an explosive burst.

The crimson jet hit Violet square in the face, covering her scrubs, face mask, and goggles. For a moment, she froze, blinking through the warm splatter as the room seemed to hold its breath.

"Clamp! Now!" Potter barked, and Violet snapped back into action, quickly assisting as they brought the situation under control.

"Got it," Potter finally said, his tone calm but firm as he worked to stop the bleeding. "Good job, Vi. That was a close one."

Violet exhaled, her shoulders slumping slightly with relief as the chaos settled.

"Nice bloodbath, Violet," Hawkeye quipped from across the room, his tone light to ease the tension. "You've got a real future in modern art."

"Remind me to laugh at that later, Dad," Violet shot back, though a small smile tugged at her lips beneath her mask.

The surgeries dragged on for another hour before the last patient was wheeled out, leaving the team utterly spent. Violet stepped out of the OR to scrub out, her scrubs stained dark red and her hair matted with sweat beneath her cap. She pulled her gloves off and tossed them into the bin, ready to peel off her mask when she caught sight of someone standing just outside the scrub area.

Her heart stopped for a moment.

James.

He stood there, a soft smile on his face, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his uniform. His hair was a little shorter than the last time she'd seen him, and he looked impossibly handsome despite the thick heat of the day.

Violet blinked, almost as if she didn't believe it was really him. Then she didn't care about anything else—not the blood on her, not the sweat, not the crowd of people milling around nearby.

"James!" she cried, tearing off her face mask and running to him.

James barely had time to open his arms before she crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight.