BJ sighed and shifted in his seat, wishing he'd brought Peg with him to the airport instead of Radar. She'd know what to say. He looked sideways at Radar, who was sitting hunched over in his seat, chin his hands, eyes half shut against the setting sun coming in through the floor to ceiling windows. The kid had seemed to age ten years in the time between his return to Iowa and his mother's death. When he first showed up to the Hunnicutt house, almost broke from the cost of the trip to California, BJ almost wasn't sure it was him. Erin hadn't recognized him outright, but that could have been because she was very young the last time she had seen him. Life hadn't been too good to Radar, and the loss of his family and the farm weighed heavy on his shoulders. He wondered how different Hawkeye would be when he got off the plane.

God bless Peg, he thought, and crooked an ankle over his knee. When he had asked about Hawkeye coming to stay with them, she hadn't batted an eye. "We certainly have enough room," she had said, slipping one hand into his. "Besides, we've seem to become a home for wayward soldiers anyway. One more won't hurt." He smiled at her and chose not to say how Hawkeye would feel about being called a soldier.

"Uh, BJ?" Radar stood up, tapping BJ's shoulder. "It's - it's Hawkeye."

He bolted upright, using all his considerable height to see over the crowd of people pouring into the airport from outside. "Where?"

"He just got off the plane."

Sure enough, if he squinted he could just make out a tall figure silhouetted against the sun, standing at the top of the airstairs. "Come on, we'll go outside."
By the time they fought their way through the crowd, they'd lost sight of Hawkeye. Buffeted by the people moving past, they struggled to hold their spot, and eventually made their way to the foot of the stairs leading into the plane.

BJ groaned. "Great, we lost him."

"You should check the lost and found," said a familiar voice behind them. BJ turned, a smile on his face, and felt it fall away immediately as soon as he caught sight of his friend. He was thin, thinner than usual, and his clothes were hanging off his bones like a coat on a hanger. His black hair, which was beginning to gray only three years ago, had turned completely silver.

Radar broke the silence. "It's good to see you again, sir."

"You mean what's left of me?" said Hawkeye, raising an eyebrow. "And knock off the sir, Radar, I left the war to get away from that specifically." He grinned and clapped him on the shoulder, but the smile seemed forced. "Ah, I can't stay mad at you, look at that face!"

Finally, BJ managed to speak. "It really is good to see you, Hawk. Everyone's been anxiously waiting for you ever since we got your last telegram. Peg's just thrilled to hear that you're coming to stay with us."

The graying man stared down at his shoes, then back up at him, looking past BJ's shoulder for a moment. "Are you sure there's room?"

The land Charles Winchester had helped them to buy was big enough for two houses, and although he wouldn't tell Hawkeye, they'd already built an addition to the house for him to stay in. There was no question of room. "It's a big house. Besides, if there's not enough room, you can bunk with little BJ." Hawkeye smiled at the mention of the newest addition to the Hunnicutt family.

"Make Radar! He can fit in the crib!"

"I sure didn't miss that," Radar mumbled. "Boy."

"I can't help it!" said Hawk, "I'm practically giddy. What's for dinner?"

"Sandwiches if we don't make it back in time," said BJ, and they began the walk towards the airport. "If you're hungry now, we can stop at a McDonald's."

"Nah, I had a - a bag of peanuts on the flight. Say, will the kids be up by the time we get back? I wanna meet them, you know, put a face to the name besides some crumpled wallet pictures."

"I would have had those pictures laminated if I could have," said BJ, patting his pocket where his wallet was.

"They don't go to bed until eight, so if we step on it we can make it about an hour before they go down," said Radar, checking his watch. "That's not accounting for traffic, though."

"Thank you, madame concierge," said Hawkeye, and to BJ, the awkward tension was now gone.

Gathered around the kitchen table, tearing into ham and cheese sandwiches and beer, the three army buddies stayed up late talking and playing cards. Hawkeye held up his silver beer can, squinting against the dying light at the brand.

"What happened to that old piss-and-water Fort Dix beer?" he asked, and at BJ's confused look, tapped the silver can. "The orange can stuff."

"Oh!" said BJ, and dropped his gaze back down to his sandwich. "They… they don't sell it here." He didn't feel ready to tell Hawkeye about his manic purging of anything and everything that reminded him of Korea. The minute he had gotten back home, he'd gotten rid of every piece of clothing that was even close to khaki or army green, thrown out all his old military decorations. He'd even shaved off his moustache.

"I can't say I miss it," he said, and nudged Radar, who was playing solitaire. "What happened to the Grape Nehi?"

"That stuff's for kids," said Radar, and Hawkeye laughed. "I'm serious. You can't walk into a bar and order a grape soda. People look at you funny."

Hawkeye's smile faded. "I thought you didn't care about that kind of thing?"

"Yeah, well." He sighed and gathered up his cards to shuffle them. "Too many knee high jokes."

BJ was glad that Hawk had the good sense not to press him about it. A lot about Radar had changed, and not just his beverage choices. They'd all changed, but the cute kid from Iowa had changed the most. He was still essentially the same, but there was something about the way he talked, the way he carried himself, that was fundamentally different, and BJ was sure it wasn't just his new job as a rookie cop.

"Speaking of knee high, sorry about the kids," said BJ, and started gathering the crumb covered plates. "I couldn't have guessed that Peg was putting them to bed early."

"Don't worry about it, Beej," said Hawkeye, and took the plates out of his hands, bringing them to the sink himself. "They can meet their new favorite dad tomorrow."

BJ laughed, throwing him a sarcastic smile. "How do you feel about Uncle Hawk?"

"Perfect! But uh," he eyed his reflection in the dark window above the sink. "I'm more of a grandfather now, don't you think?"

"You don't look so old," said Radar, dealing out his cards. Hawkeye muttered, still watching himself in the window, and ran his thin fingers through his hair.

"Why don't you take the kids to a movie tomorrow?" asked BJ, picking up a used napkin from the floor. "It's Saturday, and there's a cinema ten minutes away."

Finally, Hawkeye turned away from the window. "Sure!" he said, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rocking on his heels. It was a familiar gesture BJ hadn't realized that he'd missed.

Around eleven o'clock, Radar excused himself and left for bed, leaving his cards in a neat little stack in the middle of the table. Hawkeye, not seeming to notice the time, stayed up until nearly two in the morning, finally asking to be shown his room when he saw BJ yawning. Nearly half asleep, BJ led him down the hall to his room, which was had an extra door that opened up into the yard, and said goodnight. After the door shut behind him, BJ lingered in the hall for a moment, listening to Hawkeye's familiar nighttime routine. There was the pacing back and forth as he brushed his teeth, the creak of the bedsprings and the heavy thunk as he sat down to take off his shoes and throw them into the corner.

The footsteps made a circuit, then slowed and stopped right behind the door. BJ nearly stepped back in surprise as he heard the soft voice.

"Beej?"

"Yeah?" he managed to say. Hawkeye didn't seem surprised in the slightest.

"I'm okay."

"Yeah," said BJ, sighing. "I know."

"Alright."

"Goodnight, Hawk."

"Goodnight."

As he fell into bed beside Peg, she let out a deep sigh and turned over, one hand searching for his. He took it and held it close to his chest, pressing a kiss to her fingertips. The summer night was hot, and he left his legs uncovered as he lay down to sleep.

"How was he?" asked Peg, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Different," he said, bluntly honest. "Just like Radar. Worse, maybe."

"He'll adjust," she said, and the blankets shifted as she moved closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. He moved his arm to accommodate her. "Just like Radar."

"I don't know," he said, and watched the lights from a car driving past dance across the ceiling. "They're both orphans now. I mean, he was so close with his father. He's hiding it well, but I know he's devastated."

"Of course he is," she murmured. "But you've fixed him before. When Trapper left."

"Yeah." God, when Trapper left. He almost resented the guy for leaving so much responsibility on his shoulders. Without even knowing him, Hawkeye managed to sense the paternal tendencies in BJ, and fell apart accordingly, somehow knowing that he would do his best to piece him back together. Coaxing the man back into a routine, bringing him breakfast when he wouldn't leave his tent, even just getting him to shower; all of this was a monumental effort on BJ's part. All these years later, he didn't mind being handed the task once more, but he knew that things would not be so simple. Hawkeye's father hadn't just gone back to America. He was dead.

By the time BJ woke up the next morning, Hawkeye and both the kids were gone, Radar was off to work, and only Peg was still at the house.

"You slept late," she remarked as he sat down at the table, reaching for a plate of cold toast. "Hawkeye was up even earlier than me."

"Impressive," he said, spreading butter over his toast. "I think you could put the early bird out of business. Where'd he go? Don't tell me he's at the movies?"

"No, of course not. He and the kids are at the park, they're going to the matinee. Do you have to be at the office today?"

"No, I've got Mike filling in for me. Thought I'd take the week off to help Hawk settle in."

She frowned and set down the book she had been reading. "What about your patients?"

He shrugged. "They'll manage fine without me for the week."

"I can tell you're worried about him," she said. "Will a week be enough?"

"If it's not enough, I'll take more time off," he said, without meeting her eyes. His decision on the matter was final. He took time off for Radar, and he would take time off for Hawkeye, and he didn't care what the people at work said about it. "Do you know what they're going to see?"

"I think they said the Lone Ranger."

BJ spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon pottering around the house, looking for things to do while Peg went out to run errands and get some much needed time to herself. After the third or fourth circuit of the house, he finally decided on pruning the hedges in the front yard, and that kept him occupied until a taxi pulled up in front of the house. The doors swung open, and Erin tumbled out, holding little BJ by the hand. Without greeting her father, she took her brother into the house.

He straightened up, frowning, and watched while Hawkeye unfolded himself from the cab and paid the driver. Shoulders hunched, hands deep in his pockets, Hawkeye passed him on the front walk and hesitated for a moment, seeming on the verge of speaking. He settled for running a hand along the hedge, giving him an awkward smile.

"I never took you for a gardener," he said.

Something was wrong with him, BJ could see that clear as day. "Actually, I'm classically trained," he said calmly, continuing to trim errant leaves. "I only became a doctor as a side profession."

"Uh huh."

"How was the movie?"

"The movie?" Hawkeye asked, feigning nonchalance. "Oh! The movie. Great, great film."

"Mmhm," he said, and leaned to one side, resting an elbow against the shrub. "Then how come the matinee only started a half an hour ago?"

Here it came; the blustering Hawkeye, the one who took long pauses while elbowing a friend for help, the one whose falsehoods were always outlandishly unbelievable. If only Colonel Potter were here, BJ thought. He'd see through to the truth in a second.

"Well, I mean, it's a cowboy movie. Great stuff, but uh, you know. Not for little kids. Maybe too much for them. And we'd already been to the park for a while, and they were hungry. Yeah, they were hungry. Is there any lunch? I'm starved, let's have lunch." Hawkeye threw up his hands and beat a hasty retreat back towards the house, not stopping to see if his friend had followed him.

"Hawk?"

The other man froze, then turned with a bewildered smile. A smile that said, please believe me. "Yeah?"

BJ sighed. "There's potato salad and jelly for sandwiches in the refrigerator."

"Hey."

Hawkeye turned, a terrified expression his face. Everyone, as far as he knew, had gone to sleep hours ago. BJ stood in the doorway, one hand still curled around the knob, staring at the small brown bottle clutched in the (bony) hand of his friend. There was a silence that lasted for only a minute, but seemed to stretch into hours, maybe years. Then BJ cleared his throat, stepped into his room, and shut the door.

"I came to talk," he said, and drew up a chair next to his bed, where Hawkeye still stood, feeling frozen in place. "To see how you were doing."

Something like a terrible relief was crashing through his body, the horrifying thought that BJ knew, would see him like this, mixed with the wonderful reassurance that someone finally knew, someone could finally understand, that he didn't have to hide this awful secret. Someone who could help. Someone who was a friend.

"Imipramine," he said, in lieu of a proper reply. "I'm starting off on ten milligrams, just to make sure there aren't any unforeseen side effects."

BJ said nothing, and watched Hawkeye sit down on the edge of the bed, still holding the bottle.

"They're calling it anxiety neurosis, a psychoneurotic disorder. Some people just call it a stress reaction." He rolled the bottle in his hand, listening to the light tinkle the pills made against the glass. "Luckily, I can prescribe it to myself. If I weren't a doctor, I wouldn't be getting treatment at all, and that's because I'm a doctor. There's your irony for you. You know what they're saying? That anyone not directly involved in combat can't have a - a post-war stress reaction. Which - I mean, it's a lie, isn't it? It's a lie. I didn't spend that time in a loony bin because - because, I don't know, because - well. I mean, we were right there, Beej. Me and Trap, we disabled a bomb, with nothing but stethoscopes and our socks on. Not that we only had the stethoscopes and socks on, we were dressed, but you know what I -"

"Do you mind if I give you a check up?" BJ asked. Hawkeye's mouth fell open, and he stared at him, incredulous for a moment, before nodding. "Let me get my kit."

After a short minute, during which Hawkeye considered gathering his things and running out into the night like a madman, BJ returned, doctor's bag in hand. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he snapped the case open and withdrew a stethoscope (red, specially ordered by Peg for a birthday present). Inserting the nubbins into his ears, he pressed the cool silver disk against the man's back, and without being asked, Hawkeye inhaled deeply. BJ listened through the thin cotton of Hawkeye's undershirt and shifted the position of the chestpiece.

"Have you always had that nervous twitch?" he asked, pointing to Hawkeye's knee, which was jogging up and down at a feverish pace.

"Just picked it up," he replied, and the movement slowed.

"Hm," BJ grunted, and unhooked the stethoscope from his ears. "Let me see your wrist." Hawkeye hesitated for the barest second before reaching out towards BJ. He let out a barely audible hiss as BJ pressed his fingers against a vein.

"Sorry," he said. "It's…" he trailed off, and didn't offer an explanation. BJ asked for none and listened to his pulse race against his finger.

"Feeling nervous?" he asked, frowning. Hawkeye shook his head. "I assume you already know what I'm going to tell you?"

"Hypertension."

BJ nodded and released his wrist. "Pretty serious hypertension, too."

Withdrawing his arm, he cradled it for a moment, evaluating. "So did Erin tell you?" He coughed out a laugh when BJ didn't answer, shaking his head. "She pinkie promised not to. God. I just… I didn't want you to worry. I've got too many people worrying about me. God, Beej. I'm so sorry. I didn't let them see, I swear."

Reaching into his bag, BJ pulled out a small flashlight, and gently tilted Hawkeye's head back to examine his eyes. Even with the bright light, they barely constricted. "Do you know about your pupils?" he asked, and didn't wait for answer before continuing. "They're extremely dilated. That's a sign of stress."

"I just, you know, ducked into the bathroom," he babbled on, staring up at the ceiling long after BJ had taken the flashlight away. "I didn't know it would be so loud in there. If it wasn't so loud, I think I could have stood it. But however they're pumping that sound in, it's so… God, it sounds so realistic. Like there's someone firing off rounds right over your shoulder."

Replacing the flashlight, BJ removed a small glass bottle of pills from his bag and shook two into his hand. "I want you to take these tonight. It's a barbiturate."

Hawkeye accepted them and held one up to the light. "I thought they gave these to soldiers, to help them deal with the heat."

Snapping the case closed, BJ rose from the bed and stretched, reaching forward. "It's also a sedative. I've been using it to treat anxiety and insomnia in my own patients. Just take one for now, if it doesn't kick in within the hour, take the other one. If that doesn't work, wake me up." He gathered his case, tightened the cord on his bathrobe, and headed for the door.

"Wake you up, what for?"

He turned and offered Hawkeye a comforting smile. "To keep you company."

Hawkeye watched as the other man closed the door gently behind him, letting it swing closed without making a sound, a habit leftover from raising two children who were light sleepers. He waited for the footsteps to fade down the hall before releasing a heavy sigh and slumped over, resting his head in his hands.

Finally, he straightened, and dry swallowed both pills at once.