Extended Summary: Amelia, 30, joins the army as a nurse for the sake and innocence of her younger sister. She doesn't want her sister to endure through the hardships and abuse Amelia lived through with her father, and wishes her sister to have a better life than she had. However Amelia faces many obstacles into getting shipped over to Korea. There are certain requires Amelia couldn't pass or complete and has to make a deal with a Colonel. But what can she give a man who has everything? but her body and soul?

When she arrives in Korea, she shuns herself away from everyone and puts up a shield protecting herself. However the unlikeliest of all friendships is born with the 4077th chaplain. They both find a happiness—a peace within each others company and become good friends. She feels safe and trusts him like no other person. And he feels like a normal human being and the collar doesn't stand in her way of treating him like any other different person. . . .

Then they are taken from each other. And only after this separation do they realize they need each other. . . . (and much, much more).

Warning(s): story contains explicit and graphic images, lots of blood, nudity, rape, kisses, suggestive language, swearing, and forbidden apple-biting. And as the story progresses, more tags will be added.

Gene: Romance, tragedy, angst, humor

Setting: around the last seasons. Like 9-10-11. I don't want to specify, just generalize. You'll be able to tell the time in the story. 1952-1953

Characters involved: Father Mulcahy (MC), B. J. Hunnicutt, Hawkeye Pierce, Margaret Houlihan, Col. Potter, Klinger . . . (well everybody)

My OC's: Amelia Ryan (MC) , Col. George. S. Turner, Mary Baker, Pvt. Andrew Rogers, and few other minor characters.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction using the realm and its characters of M*A*S*H, which is owned by Larry Gelbart (bless his soul). I claimed nothing but my original characters who are written above.

Author's Notes: As you can see this is a Father Mulcahy romance fic. But I just want to say I have complete respect for the his place as a priest. However, I may challenge it or push it to its limit. But you're probably wondering "Well this is a romance fic. Does the father fall in love or have relations?" And the answer is yes. It's no secret, but the way it happens and the emotions they go through is a secret. But I can assure you the father keeps his integrity as a priest. And if you have an opposite frame of mind on that, don't worry, the story is filled with saucy and steamy moments.

I have been very inspired to write my own Father Mulcahy fic. There are some very good ones in the romance gene for Father Mulcahy, but not that many, which is such a shame. Father Mulcahy is my favorite character and I feel I must share my love for him with this fic. So, my story begins with a flash forward. And this is one of my stories that I am really proud of. I have mapped this entire story out with a beginning, middle, and end.

So I hope you all enjoy and hope to get some feed back. Thanks.

The Forbidden Fruit


He pressed his lips, slightly parted, tongue peaking through his teeth, softly, yet eagerly against her plump, swollen ones. Upon the delicate touch of their wet and lush flesh, he pressed his lips harder into hers, beginning to lightly smother her mouth with soft feverish kisses. A heavy feeling of exited bliss erupted within his belly as he felt her kiss back with as much passion and ferocity as he did; however, after a few breathless and inseparable moments, he felt her hand push lightly against his chest. He slowly broke the kiss, eyes clouded with love and lust, and looked at her not hurt or offended, but understood her purpose to pull away.

"I want you to do that to me again, . . . and again, and again, for so long our lips would fall from our faces . . . but," she brought her hand up to his cheek, beginning to careless it softly, her thumb grazing his lips, eagerly wanting to push her lips against his again; to smother him and to be smothered. "But you . . ." The words fell from her lips before she felt him press his finger gently against them, silencing her plead.

"I have made my decision . . . And I will have no regrets. Should God be mad at a man for following his heart? To be happy? To have peace? . . . . I will love you, with all my burning passion and all my being, until the end of our days. . . ."

Their fiery and burning loins ached for each others passion. The tension was mounting in their bellies and with a final stare, they lunged into each others arms, caressing kissing, loving . . .

The Forbidden Fruit

Present Time—November 1952

Having packed all her belongings in a single, olive-green duffel bag, Amelia sat on the edge of the cot, slouching slightly at the waist, her elbows placed thoughtfully on her knees, her head bend and heavy against her neck. Her brown eyes held an airy death and inanimateness poise against the dimly lit and desolate room, and her usual pale complexion was considerately paler. Her brown waves were swept off her neck, tied up in a tangled heap of curls, knots, and cold sweat.

After a few moments, consumed in thought, she absentmindedly curled her fingers around a ring, linked along with the dog-tags around her neck, turning the ring about in her fingers. A feeling of regret and longing brought the ring forward, her eyes searching it for answers that could never be answered A feeling of hatred overcame her and she dropped it as if it sting her like a bee.

Sad tranquility possessed her again, however torn apart a few moments later as an impatient and masculine voice thundered across the barren room of polished concert and metal cots.


Two dozen or so feet could be heard scrambling to their positions at the foot of their cots. Amelia however, at the sound of the man's command, took considerately longer to stand from her cot and into the issued position. She managed to step into position, put her hands behind her back, and stiffen as the commanding officer walked passed her, hands clasped behind his back, surveying and scrutinizing with a careful eye.

Colonel George S. Turner, the commanding officer of their company's unit of nurses. An older generation-traditionalist; a man of the strictest values and morals, however very corrupt in his way of action and obedience. He was a very intelligent man, although never flaunted it. He was a man of fifty or so, his hair and groomed beard as white as snow, his eyes a soft blue, yet very dominate. He was of medium build, very stout. He was a man with a thirsty appetite for the weak.

"Stand at, ease," he hollered over the unit of nurses. An instance response acted: almost immediately after the command, a dozen heads slouched and shoulders stooped, a long with a side step. The commanding officer took a relaxed position in the front of the room centered down the aisle, his hands behind back.

"Ladies. I'm proud to call you soldiers. . . . You've completed your required assessments and physical duties for the heap of battle. . . ."

The words of her commander slowly fell on deaf ears as Amelia become adsorbed with her thoughts again, her eyes became glazed and fixed on the cement floor below. She only caught a few words here and there, and didn't care if she heard them at all.

". . . basic training . . . when you get there. . . you may be just nurses but . . . . Godspeed on your journey to Korea . . . . Dismissed."

Amelia saw in a blur, a heap of nurses rushing past her, duffel-bags in hand, hurriedly leaving the compound. However, lost in her vacancy, she remained standing in the relax position, hands still behind her back, unable to bring herself out her daze. Finally her commanding officer, after seeing her standing there, staring off into space and having witnessed her withdrawn poise during his final speech, pulled himself in front of her.

Again, Amelia saw a figure blurred, yet stilled in front of her. Soon she realized the commanding officer had dismissed the nurses and was left alone with him. Upon that realization, she began to blink away the glaze that had formed on her eyes. A sudden fear raising in her heart.

The commanding officer's upper lip stiffened.

"Lieutenant Ryan," his voice thundered at her.

Amelia felt an overwhelming urge to roll her eyes, but shunned the idea as her commanding officer stuck his face within inches of her own. On more than one occasion had she and her commanding officer coral-ed, resulting in her relaxed and insolent responses to his commands. He treated in a crude manner—he often took advantage of her in the most vulnerable of ways. But he knew she couldn't or wouldn't do anything against him or report him to the higher authority. He knew she needed the money she would earn. More badly than to deny him. He knew her weakness. And used it to his advantage.

An instant swell of disgust pooled in her stomach; she had that feeling of wanting to vomit.

"Yes, George S. Turner," she replied causally, deliberately wanting to inflame his temper. "Lt. Amelia Ryan, reporting."

Colonel Turner smiled, amused with her stubborn temperament. It gave him pleasure to see her trying to subdue her disgust for him. And he liked her discomfort and to exercise his power over her.

"Uh, huh. . . . " he said, his eyes falling upon her neck. "Explain this." He had grabbed a fountain pen from his coat jacket pocket and inserted its tip into the ring around her neck. He pulled it forward, tilting the pen slightly before her chin. And when Amelia's jaw tightened, her brows and lips forming into a straight line, her commanding officer dropped the ring back around her neck and smiled. Her suppressed anger seemed to give him a sick satisfaction, and with a smug sneer he said:

"This goes against regulations; therefore, the ring must go. And I wouldn't mind taking it off that pretty little neck of yours." He brought his hand up and wrapped his sausage like fingers around her throat, his thumb messaging about in a circle. "I'd like to keep something of yours to remember you by. I am going to miss you and that sweet ass of yours."

Amelia sucked her cheek between her teeth and bite down, suppressing the urge to lash back at him. But Amelia trembling with an almost uncontrollable anger, her eyes fixed boldly upon his, said, but in such a faint and hushed whisper, that he had to lean forward to hear:

"Go fuck yourself."

Even in that hushed tone, it was dripping with such disgust and conviction, that it inspired such a rage in him that he tore off the beaded chain and threw it down to the floor, but not before taking the ring and clenching it tightly in his hand.

Amelia, surprised and trembling slightly at the madman before her, straightened herself stiff, her heart beating wildly in her chest, and with a sudden fear overcoming her, she remained silent. He was a strict, but quiet man—only speaking when unnecessary and only with the most diligent words. She had never seen his temper flare like this and turned as white as the snow falling outside when he approached her again. He appeared calm, yet was billowing with controlled anger underneath the surface. He stepped closer, his breath hot against her ear.

"You've been a thorn in my neck ever since you got here."

Amelia winced away hearing the chilling and harsh whisper against her ear. But she didn't dare to enrage his temper anymore and listened intently to his words.

"You have continuously questioned my judgement, disobeyed my authority, broken multiple regulations and defied protocols . . . " He stiffened his back, stepping closer to her body, his nose brushing her cheek. "If you were any other woman, your ass would have had been on a bus home." His eyes become fixated on her lips. "However, no man could pass up on your sweet little deal." His hands began sliding up her arms, stopping as he gripped them around her neck. "My end of the bargain has been for filled . . . I put your on a plane to Korea, even though you've failed your certain requirements. And you said, in return, I could have whatever I wanted. And considering you haven't anything I want, you have nothing but yourself to offer. . . .You must love that sisters of yours to have sold your soul to me."

"More like the devil," she hissed, her eyes becoming fixed on his.

"You begged me, didn't you" he said ignoring her comment, wounding her ego. "On hand and foot like a common whore! And what did you say? yes? You'd do anything if I got you on that plane . . . huh? That you needed the money to send home to your poor, little sister. Huh? You begged me to have compassion?...Do you take me as a fool? I expect to you to hold up your end of the bargain."

His eyes were weary with desire and hunger for flesh, and as he ascended upon her, it gave him considerable pleasure to see her surrender herself and obey him like a dog. He ordered her get on the cot and not utter a sound as he began unbuckling his belt loops.

Amelia had no choice but to obey—she surrendered her body to him and laid on her back. He came over her, his eyes feasting thirstfully on her body. He was quickly becoming aroused and pounced on her without another thought. In his haste of pleasure, he fumbled on her trouser buttons and zipper, but once he got them unfastened, he ripped her pants down around her ankles, promptly followed with her underwear.

Amelia clenched her eyes closed and forced her head to the side. Her skin crawled with disgust when he began panting and moaning horridly above her, her insides quivering violently making her want to vomit. Her heart beat wildly when he began thrusting inside her in quick feverish strides. After a few moments of slap-stick noises, the colonel, thrusting hard one more time, cried a billowing moan, emptying himself inside her.

Amelia pushed off the half-limp and sweaty man above her, and recoiled away, covering her exposed flesh, humiliated and shamed. She did not weep as she collected her clothes, every fiber in her body wanting—needing to wash every inch of her soiled skin.

"I'm going to miss you," he said coming up behind her and placing a tender kiss on the back of her neck. She winced away, facing him now, temper flaming.

"You're disgusting," she spat and picked up her duffel bag.

Her rage was arousing. He laughed dryly:

"Even that mouth of yours." He was quick—he snatched her chin up in his hand, pressing it roughly in his fingers, and brought her close to his face. She dropped the duffel bag, surprised at his quickness. "Where ever you shall be stationed, I shall come."

And with a harsh kiss, he pushed her away, her body hitting the metal cot.

The Forbidden Fruit

Amelia, leaning her head against the freezing metal of the aircraft carrier transporting them to Korea, winced when the biting cold singed her temple, but she didn't withdraw. She was encouraging the pain as she pressed her forehead harder against the cold. She wanted to feel the pain and the reality it brought forth. She clenched her eyes closed, memories flooding her vision of her little sister left behind with their father; consequently, tasting blood in her mouth as she had bite down on her cheek, cringing at the horrible thoughts.

"Please don't leave me," cried her sister, pulling the sleeve of her arm, trying to hold back Amelia. "Please don't leave alone with him!"

Amelia stopped and pulled her little sister into a tight hug, but pulled away and keeled before her. "I know it seems like I am abandoning you, but I'm not. I'm doing this for you—for us. When I get back I promise I'll take you away from here, away from him. " Amelia wiped the tears from her sister's eyes. "But in order to do that I need you to be brave for me. To be strong—for the both of us. I can't do this without you. I love you, Nancy."

Amelia left her little sister, crying, at the door frame of their apartment. She promised herself she would never allow her sixteen year old sister to endure what she had.

"I promise," she whispered aloud, her cheeks flushed and her eyes gleaming in the darkness of the aircraft carrier. A quiet serene befell her, both soothing and calming her until it was broken moments later when an excited chatter arose in the carrier. Amelia shifted her head towards the front of the carrier seeing the other nurses crammed around a single port window, pointing and laughing out the plane.

"Look! We just came over Korea!"

"It's so pretty in the winter time."

"I can't wait to get to my new unit and for-fill my duty."

The chatter rose louder as they began commending themselves for their acts of bravery and courage to voluntary over seas and for-fill their civil duties. And especially more to the point: their were women.

One nurse hovered above all them, exclaimed, "I can't wait to get my first letter from my husband admitting he was wrong and says that taking care of Juliet was harder than he thought!" Laughter arose at the jab and another nurse shouted, "I can't wait to get back home and demand the respect my father owes me! Says I can't handle it! What's it look like I'm doing!" And another stood up, said, "I just want to service our good Lord and look after for our boys."

The nurse who said that blushed profusely as an even louder chatter broken out about boys.

"Soldiers boys!"

". . . Handsome, solider boys!"

" . . . Shirtless, soldiers boys!"

"Sweaty, shirtless soldier boys!"


Their spirits were high and light, but Amelia turned away, knowing the words they spoke were none to describe the likes of war. She knew better and wasn't naive as the rest of them. Amelia knew that all too well as both her father and brother had served in WWII. . . . Her brother didn't return.

The mindless chatter continued, but died immediately when the plane came into turbulence. The nurses scrambled back into their seats, strapping themselves tightly in. Amelia pressed her forehead into cold steel again, closing her eyes as the pleasure hit. If we make it through this . . .

The Forbidden Fruit

The aircraft carrier had landed at the Seoul Army base Headquarters just after dusk. A blizzard had swept over the night's sky from the West, engulfing the entire country in gusting winds of snow and ice, stopping all in and out-going traffic from the base.

The air was crisp and piercing as it filled Amelia's lungs, the bitter cold nipping at her flesh and sending an instant wave of pain down her throat. Clenching her jacket collar in her fingers, she pulled it tighter around her exposed neck, blocking out the blowing wind from invading underneath her coat. With one hand gripped around her duffle bag and the other around her jacket, Amelia set her head low and pushed her way through the blowing snow, struggling greatly against it. Visibly was next to none as she followed blurred figures into the base, just barely being able to stay up straight. However some of the smaller nurses couldn't push through the cutting wind and had to be helped.

"This is Korea's weather for ya!" shouted the man leading them into the compound. He held opened the door ushering the nurses in quickly. "Just wait until tomorrow when it's blue skies and green pastures. Ya, it'll throw ya for a loop."

Upon entering into the room just inside the compound, loud and spirited gasps escaped each nurses' mouth, including Amelia's, as an instant warmth came on them. The difference of temperatures between inside and outside was so profound, it shocked some of them into a shivering fit. They had only been intact with the wind for a few minutes and already red covered their cheeks and noses.

"Ladies, if you'll follow me, a cup of joe is waitin' for ya. Nasty stuff but you won't mind considering its hot and warm ya right up."

The man lead them through a series of hallways until they came into a large hanger much like an airport waiting room. There were chairs scattered here and there, a front desk, and various ranks of men and women waiting impatiently for the storm to blow over. One man of Major rank was screaming at the man behind the front desk, his hands planted firmly on the counter, leaning over, spitting in the poor clerk's face, of which he replied, "Sorry, sir, but there are no out-going traffic. If you'd just sit down and wait—"

"Wait!? Wait!? all I have been doing is waiting . . . " his voice trailed away as the man leading the nurses began speaking again.

"Alright, you're to wait here 'til the blizzard blows over. Then you'll be transferred out to your units. Coffee machines over there."

And with those final impersonal and inept words, he walked off, leaving the nurses to offend for themselves, alone and not knowing what to do. The nurses, terribly nervous and anxious after having experience the brutal weather, huddled together in the corner. However Amelia occupied a seat by herself, far away as possible from the nurses.

Terrible and gut-twisting feelings proceeded as the time passed, waiting for someone to relief their quiet sufferings, nervous anticipation hitting the lot of the nurses. An hour in of this waiting, a loud beeping sound erupted from the tele-com, alerting occupants of the base of an incoming message:

"Calling all nurses due to report to the 4077th M*A*S*H unit in the West hanger. Repeat. Calling all nurses due to report to the 4077th M*A*S*H unit in the West hanger. Lieutenants, Mary Baker, Zoey Benson, and Amelia Ryan. Departure is in ten minutes. Repeat. Departure is in ten minutes."

A tense-filled silence came over the room as the nurses exchanged glances, each one either relieved that it hadn't been their name called out or it was a dropping-feeling in their stomach as they were one of the names called out. And after this silence exchange happened, a loud chatter arose over the grouped nurses, whispering to each other, discussing the reasons why they were going to sent out in the blizzard.

Amelia frowned as she heard her name. 4077th? I'm to report to 8063rd. Amelia walked to the front desk, meeting the shifty clerk behind the desk. "I'm Lieutenant Amelia Ryan. There must be some mistake. I have my orders to report to the 8063rd, not the 4077th."

His eyes shifted uneasily about Amelia, bracing himself for the incoming insults, but when they didn't come, he relaxed in his chair and grabbed a clip board, scanning it quickly for her name.

"Nope," he said modestly, "Says here you're report to the front MASH unit, 4077th. Your orders were changed."

Amelia had an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she was already aware of who had changed her orders, but asked anyway.

"On whose authority."

He checked the chart again, replying after finding the correct paper, "A Col. George S. Turner."

"That bastard," she hissed to herself, then recoiled as the man behind desk stared at her. She turned away, her mind racing with anger. "That—"

Amelia caught a glimpse of the other two nurses who were also reporting to the 4077th walking to the West Hanger, and followed after them. She came up behind them, hearing one of them bicker complaints. A Zoey Benson, if Amelia remembered correctly. A fair-haired, golden skinned, twenty-something peppy girl. She had this poise of arrogance and pompousness that was an automatic eye roll.

"How could they even think to send us out in this weather," she exclaimed loudly, not caring of who heard her complaints.

The woman walking besides Lt. Benson was Mary Baker. Amelia remembered her from basic training as she had a need to become friends with everyone, as the good Catholic she was. Mary was young too, brown-haired, and very petite and fragile like. She had a hold of a cross in her trembling hands, chained along with her dog tags, silencing praying to herself, and ignoring the loud-mouth besides her.

"This is absolutely unacceptable," whined the blond again. "When I get to the commanding officer at the 4077th, I am going to give him a piece of my mind!"

Amelia kept quiet until they entered in the West hanger, a young soldier greeting them by the jeep.

"Hello, I'm Private Andrew Rogers. I'll be transporting you to the 4077th."

The soldier was modestly handsome—tall, lean, and young. And as soon as Zoey Benson set her eyes upon him, her mouth shut, her eyes and heart gleaming with instantaneous love, and hopped in the passenger seat, locking her hip against his. The boy smiled sheepishly and turned back to the wheel.

Amelia and Mary jumped in the back seat, stuffed along with the three duffel bags. However, Amelia thought, it'll keep us from bumping about on the road and act like a pillow for the long journey in the snow.

When the hangar door began to rise, a quiet awe came about on their faces as they set their eyes on the storm outside. Even the young solider silently gulped as he realized he was going to be responsible for the three souls in his care.

"On whose orders are we risking our lives for, going out in this blizzard?" asked Lt. Benson in the passenger seat.

The solider's cheeks flushed and turned to the blonde, replying, "Major Margaret Houlihan, Head nurse at the 4077th. They're in dire need of nurses. You see, two of their nurses caught pneumonia and had to been sent off to Tokyo General. They need you all immediately."

"For my country," she replied weakly, finally hitting her the reality of war—that it isn't some glorified phenomenon that gave one instant glory and gratification. No. It's life or death. The blonde shut her mouth, and they drove off into the snowy darkness.

The young soldier took his time, driving under controllable and comfortable speeds. Visibly was little to none. Their normal two hour trip would take them almost double. However the solider drove on, keeping the ride safe.

"Well ladies, we're about there. Just about seven or so miles. Gosh this trip sure has been fun."

The boy, throughout the duration of the trip, had grown from a boy into man as his passenger practically sat in his lap, teasing him. Only once or twice did he swerve on the account of his passenger's hand glide up his leg, but he was much too modest to complain. She'd whisper things in his ear and he'd either get really quiet with flushed cheeks or billow with laughter. She was sure giving him his full "solider-nurse experience."

However, the playful couple in front only made Mary Baker clench her cross tighter in her fingers, her lips moving in silence prayer. She would jump with sheer terror each time he'd swerve or even laugh.

Amelia eyes were dead and glazed over, watching the passing scenery of trees and hills as blurry figures. Everything was engulfed under a heavy blanket of snow, but that was even if she could see five feet from the jeep. Her mind was numb, wondering about helpless.

"So, uh, are you going to be staying over night at the 4077th?" Zoey Benson purred into the soldier's ear, her fingers trailing up his thigh. She giggled girlishly when he jumped, feeling an instant pleasure at the end of her fingers tips.

"Well," he sang, looking at her, taking his eyes from the road for a second.

A second too long . . .

His eyes shifted slowly back to the road, clouded with desire and lust, but his heart stopped at the sight in the road.

"It all had happened so fast," reported Amelia gravely, staring at the commanding officer of the 4077th, hands clasped in a ball front her, her head heavily against neck.

The Forbidden Fruit

Author's Note: So that was the beginning of Amelia's story. I hope I've caught your interest and hope you send me some feedback. And I know the father wasn't in this chapter, but he will soon appear. Thanks for reading!

So, what was in the road? I am very happy to report chapter 2 is done, but awaiting editing.