I could never picture them together, not from the day he first set foot in the OR. Charles was self-exuberant, over confident, and pompous. He flaunted his surgical skill and financial wealth for everyone to see, not that anyone cared. From the very first step off that wagon and onto the dirt of the compound, he never let me forget just how wonderful he was.

Every moment Charles got, he had to pound it into me. He was the better surgeon and I was no one in his shadow. I often think that he was telling us not to gloat, but instead to push himself on, like he wasn't truly sure of his own surgical skill; it was either that or he was afraid I was going to forget.

Now don't get me wrong, Charles is a pretty damn good surgeon, but he doesn't seem to know when enough is enough.

Apart from his ego, the nurses seemed to draw to him in the beginning, one in particular. Margaret raved about how wonderful his hands were, how terrific he was with a scalpel. There had been a time when I was sure then they'd end up together. As times changed, their attraction seemed to diminish, but they had their moments. I knew about their occasional private dinners and times spent alone in her tent, I wasn't stupid.

Charles was trying his hardest to impress her, bestowing her with gifts and fancy foods. Time after time I would find them sitting together, talking and whispering in low voices. The moment someone walked over or passed by they would quickly change the subject, in some disturbing way they reminded me very much of how Frank and Margaret used to be.

I heard the talk in the Officer's Club, about supposed romances and rendezvous; I refused to listen to any of it. Yet I suppose, in my heart there was always that part of me that wondered, that was scared there really was something going on. I was never sure. At times they could be friendly and civil to each other, sometimes almost to the point of making everyone else sick. Least to say, I wasn't really sorry when they fought and carried on.

Margaret fought with me for three years; during of which I was never really sure which of us had the upper hand. She might have kissed me before we said goodbye, but it was with Charles whom she shared a meaningful farewell with. I saw him give her Elizabeth Browning's Sonnets of the Portuguese. I saw the sentiment and longing in her eyes before they said goodbye. I saw the kiss he placed on her hand and the sorrow they shared as they parted. It was Charles who she was looking at as she waved goodbye.

It wouldn't be fair to say I was obsessive or jealous, observant is a more appropriate term. I've always had a watchful eye, knowing everything that was going on around me. That's just the way I've always been. Margaret Houlihan was no exception, although I admit she had some sort of array that seemed to draw my attention. She seemed to give off a glow, a glow that's drawn me to her since we first met and that's continued for four years.

There were others besides Charles, others that were far more threatening. I know this sounds silly, but I was envious of Frank Burns. That's not the reason I hated him mind you, no, I got that from his distaste and inhumane character. I was jealous because Margaret wasn't good enough for him; she deserved better than an adulterous, backstabbing, spineless, shadow of a man.

She was smart and brave and loving; Frank Burns never should have had the pleasure of speaking to her, let alone touching her. I think that's what caused me to play those horrible tricks. Placing microphones under her bed as they talked or had sex was my idea.

I thought that if a woman would waste her time with someone like him, then there must have been something wrong with her. As time went on, I saw that wonderful, warm person, hidden behind that wall. But that wasn't enough; she still didn't want anything to do with me.

You wouldn't believe the number of times I thought Trapper and Margaret were seeing one another; sometimes you could just see the lust in their eyes. I knew what they wanted, but it was something neither one of them wanted to risk. Trapper wasn't any better than Frank, and yet we ridiculed him for his incompetence and greed. It wasn't the war that had driven him to cheat on his wife like it had BJ. No, Trapper did things with his own accord.

Donald Penobscott broke her heart, that lying bastard. I knew he was bad news from the first time I met him. The day she told us she was getting married I had to keep from challenging her decision. I never claimed to be an expert on commitment or relationships, but I knew enough to know that a healthy marriage couldn't be built on a one-week holiday. Margaret was genuinely happy though; I'd never seen her so elated. Apparently all she'd been missing was a man of a substantial position who appeared to love her. I was resentful. But then again, who was I to tell her whom she could and couldn't love.

After their divorce she had other romances. Pilots, Reporters, Intelligence officers, Special Forces commanders. When Scully stepped in I thought nothing of it. After our falling out I'd tried to turn away from my feelings. Margaret had wanted me only in the regard that I had change who I was. Hawkeye Pierce doesn't change for anyone. I hadn't changed for Carlye, I wouldn't change for the Army, and I refused to change for a woman who had never loved me to begin with. But I admit that I found satisfaction when they broke off their relationship. They had done to each other what she had done to me and every other man. I did not find solace in her pain, if anything it only deepened mine.

I've always thought of her relationship with that Swedish officer as to have been an interesting one. I know they were never intimate, but she connected with him on a level that she had never experienced with anyone else. Whenever Per was in the room, everyone else seemed to disappear. I was nothing more than a stupid irrational man when Per was in the room. I'm sure that if she saw him again she'd jump right into his arms, unlike she will when she sees me. I already know that all I'm getting is a nervous look and a weak hug. They're all terrified of me, after what happened and all. No one wants to be caught in the same room with a crazy man.

"What do you think about this? Are you getting hungry?" He asked Hawkeye as they drove. "Do you feel like stopping yet?"

Hawkeye thought for a moment. "No," he said softly. "I do not feel like eating in an airless, rusting, grease trap of a tin can. Keep driving, there has to be some place more civilized." Hawkeye sat back again and watched the scenery pass by.

I suppose I can see why she's always been fond of those Military type men. They're just as obedient as golden retrievers and less messy. She's always been into those tall, handsome, bulky, strong, dumb types. The ones with IQ's equal to Pigeons and fleas. Every single man I've ever seen her with fit that description in some way. They have neatly combed hair and smooth shaved faces, expensive wristwatches and shiny cars, big houses and a servant for every room. There's a new 200 suit in every closet and a pair of winged tipped shoes for every day of the week.

My wardrobe consists of an old T-shirt, faded lose blue jeans, and a pair of worn leather shoes. The last haircut I had up until this date, I'm ashamed to say was in Korea, over a year ago. It's black again, I'm happy to announce, but it was getting to be awfully long. My bangs reached far past my eyes and down to my nose, I'm not sure you could even see my ears unless it was tucked behind.

"Okay, so what about that one?" He asked Hawkeye hopefully. "Does that sound good?"

Hawk looked at the passing sign; they were approaching another small eatery, 'Martha's Diner'. "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "It's almost ten Hawk. You wanted to keep driving through the night right?"

"Yeah."

Trying to sound persuasive he pressed, "This looks as good as we're going to get."

"I bet you're right," he agreed unhappily. "I'm starving anyway," Hawkeye said. They parked the car and got out. Hawkeye put on his jacket and flipped up the collar, together they walked inside. The hostess saw them enter and immediately picked up two menus.

"Evening gentlemen, smoking or nonsmoking?" She asked quickly. The two men looked at each other, neither knew what the other wanted.

"I think perhaps nonsmoking would be best," Hawkeye said to the woman.

"Okay, right this way." She started walking away, leading them to a booth by the front window. "Here ya' go." She placed the menus on the small table.

"Thanks."

"Sure honey," she said as she walked away.

You'd think one year would be enough for me to sort my thoughts and collect myself. Well I can tell you, it wasn't. Exactly one year after the war ended, I still haven't found the part of me that I lost. Benjamin Franklin Pierce is very much alive, somewhere.

The man I was before got left back somewhere in Korea. Maybe that's what's scaring me, they're all going to be expecting the same Hawkeye. That fun loving, joke cracking, bemusing, pure nonsense little boy. And what are they going to get? The real me? The new me? The new me is a quiet, self-contained man who shadows his feelings and thoughts from the rest of the world. No one knows who I am.

"Are you almost ready to order honey?" That same waitress was standing beside their table, bouncing her hip and chewing a stick of bubble gum.

Hawkeye looked up to see his friend staring at him. "Oh…..uh, yeah sure. Turkey on white and cup of coffee."

"I'll have a burger," Trapper told her.

"Trapp?"

"Yeah Hawk?" He was still looking at his menu, deciding on a desert. There were five different kinds of pie to choose from.

"I'm not sure I can do this," Hawkeye stated blandly.

Trapper set his menu down, "I don't understand why you're nervous. You know these people, you've known them for years. I'm the one that should be anxious."

Hawkeye smiled, "You know Father Mulcahy, Klinger, and Radar. And you can't tell me you don't remember Margaret."

Trapper laughed, "But what about that Hunnicutt fellow and Winchester? I never met them or that Colonel Potter. Besides, Margaret never liked me."

"Sure….." Hawkeye mumbled under his breath.

"What was that Hawk?" Trapper hadn't heard him.

"Sure you do. And besides, I'm sure you'll all hit it off right away. BJ was the one who contacted you didn't he?"

"Yes but….."

"See, there you go. He didn't call me."

"That's because you haven't been home and your father had the phone disconnected," Trapper said in a matter of fact tone.

"True," Hawkeye knew he had been defeated.

I first reunited with Trapper about three months after I returned home from the war. Against all my emotions to see him, I was still mad at him for abandoning me. He left me in the middle of all that insanity with not so much as a goodbye or so long. Trapper never even called me once he was home or sent me a damn letter. I was mad at him when he left, and I was mad at him when I saw him again, but I didn't have a choice either way, I was only half-conscious at the time.

He told me BJ Hunnicutt had called him and invited him to a 4077th reunion. Everyone had been questioning about me, asking where I had disappeared to. To be honest, I haven't talked to one person since we all said goodbye. When Trapper told him that he'd seen me, and knew where I was, BJ was ecstatic and begged him to drag me along. It's not like it was difficult, I didn't have anywhere else to go.

We could have flown, but I wouldn't have it. I can't stand flying, not after what happened. So Trapp agreed we could drive, it's not like I gave him much of a choice. Personally I don't see why I have to go, I'm not even sure I should be there. It's not really my place you know. As time went on I got left behind. They moved on without me while I was locked away in that padded stall, it's been lately that I've come to the conclusion that perhaps the caravan started moving long before I realized it.

They were my friends and they cared about me, I know they did. We all fought and said terrible things; we pointed out every imperfection and every little thing that drove the others mad. I don't doubt they didn't at least feel something in my most maddening and stupid moments, but if something was there, it wasn't really big.

"Well this isn't half bad," Trapper smiled happily as he took another bite of his burger. Hawkeye looked across the table at him with little enthusiasm. "I know it doesn't look like the best joint," he gestured to their surroundings, "But the food is pretty good." Hawkeye wasn't sure whether to be disgusted or jealous at Trappers simplicity and happiness. He could be so naive sometimes. Hawkeye was leaned back in his chair, his chin resting in the palm of his hand; he didn't look very interested. "Didn't you think so?"

Hawkeye was looking at him. "It's not bad."

"It's not bad!" Trapper said in mock outrage, "This is fine dining compared to what we ate in Korea!"

Hawkeye still wasn't interested. "I ate that cooking for three years. You only had to eat it for little more than one."

"Are you saying you liked it?" Trapper had his hands on the table, he was looking at Hawk like he was crazy.

With a disgusted look Hawkeye replied, "Hell no. It was absolutely horrible."

"Then what?"

"I think I lost my appetite permanently. Cooking doesn't matter as much to me as it did in Korea."

Trapper gawked at his friend, "But look at you!" He pointed a finger at Hawkeye. "You've filled out a lot since the last time we've seen each other. What do you mean you haven't been eating?"

"I never said I wasn't," Hawkeye contradicted. "I eat when I'm hungry. I don't eat for pleasure."

"Ah," Trapper smiled coyly at his friend. "Getting that some place else huh?" He chuckled to himself.

"No, nothing like that," Hawkeye gave him one of those looks.

"Then what is it? You look different."

"You mean besides seeing me out of olive green drab?" Hawkeye pointed to his black T-shirt.

"I don't know. That is different I'd say though. I've never seen you in jeans and a leather jacket before."

"We were in a war, not a fashion show."

"I know, but…..I don't know, it's just different. Even your hair is different."

"Speaking of which," Hawkeye took off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through his black hair, "I was thinking of growing it out."

"Again….." Trapper jested.

"Yes again," he held a piece of hair between his fingers. "What do you think they'd say if I showed up with a shaved head?"

"Let's give them only a few surprises at a time. They're probably going to keel over from the rest just as well." Trapper told him. "Besides, I don't think you'd look too good bald."

Hawkeye smirked, "You're right. I shouldn't push it."

"Ha, ha," Trapper laughed, "They're not going to believe it's you."

"If only I were that lucky."

"Hawk…..I've told you. They love you; they want you there. I could tell it in the way Hunnicutt asked about you." Under normal circumstances Trapper would have been worried about Hawkeye's insecurities and withdraws, but from the bits and pieces he had placed together, he understood why Hawkeye was acting the way he did.

"Yeah, so you keep telling me," he was still sounding rather depressed.

"Ah…..Hawk! Knock it off already!" Trapper tried to cheer him up, he stood up and pulled out his wallet. "Come on, let's get out of here." He set a couple bucks on the table. Hawkeye stood up and followed his friend out of the diner. His hands were stuffed into the pockets of his jacket and his cap was pulled down to cover his eyes.

"Are you going to drive or do you want me to?" Hawkeye asked as the walked over to the car.

"I drove for the last four hours. It's your turn, I'm dead tired. I'm going to sleep." Trapper walked over to the passenger side and got in. Hawkeye stood behind the car for a moment before proceeding over and opening the driver's door.

"You're just lucky I'm not tired," he said as he took off his jacket and cap and threw them into the back seat.

"Hey pal, you're the one that didn't want to fly," Trapper reminded as he situated himself into a sleeping position and closed his eyes.

"Yes, I know." He sat down and shut the door. "Keys?" He held out his hand. Trapper placed them in his hand without opening his eyes. "Thank you." Hawkeye turned the ignition and revved the engine.

Sick people don't generally realize they're sick until after it's too late. It took me that long to recognize what was happening to me. Now that I think about, I don't think that one incident on the bus was the entire cause of my break down, I mean, it was the greatest, but not the only contributor. There were other things that were wearing on me. The endless shifts in the OR, the stress from work and lack of sleep, the ravages of war.

By the time peace was officially in the air, I was down to my wits end. Was anyone else feeling what I was? Of course not, I was the only one who fit into that category. I was there the longest, I witnessed more casualties, I sat through the most sessions. It's true, Father Mulcahy and Margaret were there for just as long, and Klinger came in at a close second, but they still didn't compare to what I went through.

Margaret would leave for weeks at a time to waltz with brass through Tokyo or Seoul. I'm sure if you add up all her days of R&R it would equal up to nearly six months. I knew what she was up to, every man she could get her hands on. Besides, how can you compare a nurse to a surgeon? I stood there day after day with my elbows deep in kids; I was the one controlling life and death, not her.

Father Mulcahy was a good man; there's not one bad thing about him. His work was important; there's no denying that. But it still wasn't the same. Every time a patient slipped through my grasp, I felt like the lowest person in the world. I wanted to scream and cry and bury myself in the deepest hole I could find. It hurt so bad to gaze upon that young man and know that he was never going to see his family again, that his life was over, and it was my fault. The good Father didn't feel that exactly how I did. I don't doubt he felt remorse for the dead, the dread of war, but his pain and mine couldn't be compared.

I wake up night after night in cold sweats with my heart pounding in my ears. Every time I close my eyes I see the destruction, the pain, the terror. They're about the war mostly, as well as other experiences. The war ones aren't as strong now, now it's something else. Something just as terrifying and real to me as Korea was.

Sometimes they're not scary and heart wrenching, sometimes they just hurt. I've had dreams involving friends, my very close friends. Someone is killed or turns on me, and that hurts even more. I had a dream once, a horrible dream, where I walked into the Swamp to find Margaret and BJ in bed, clothes scattered all over the floor. I didn't sleep for a week afterwards.

I know what you're really thinking, I'm paranoid. I don't know why I constantly think about it. That she and Beej could have been having an affair behind the backs of the entire camp. I used to watch the way she carried herself around him, like I did with every man she was with. It doesn't take a genius to realize I had problem, or rather that I still do. Every man, every single man she's shaken hands with I've been envious of secretly.

One great of example of this is, that I mentioned before, was BJ. I don't think I openly allowed myself to think about it consciously, but I believe it was always lingering in the back of my mind. He was a nice guy, a really nice guy. I couldn't blame her if she did, she'd been hurt so many times in the past, she deserved someone nice. It was never going to BJ, I never thought that at all, but I always believed in a mutual attraction. She surely wasn't interested in me.

She sat with Charles during meals and stood beside him whenever there was a reason to stand. It was BJ she laughed with, and it was him she confided in when she needed to talk. Colonel Potter was her comfort zone, a fatherly figure, and Klinger got her everything she desired. What did she need with me? As the war moved on so did any hope we had together. I tried to move closer, but something held me back. Perhaps it was the notion I wasn't desired in return. Maybe that's what dashed my hopes.

Hawkeye's eyes were fixed on the dashing white line as he drove. Beside him Trapper was slumbering happily in his seat with a pillow propped behind his head. The sky was dark and they were the only car on the road. He wasn't sure where they were exactly, but it was somewhere in Utah. So far Hawkeye had decided that he wasn't fond of this state, it was bland and depressing to the eye.

In a few hours they would be nearing the Nevada-Utah boarder, only one more state until they reached California. Hawkeye was glad they were almost there, it had been a long week of driving through the night. He was excited about sleeping and not having to worry about making time. Yet on the other hand, he was dreading the thought of seeing everyone again. He'd fallen out of touch with all of them over the past year, and he didn't want explain why.

After another two hours they were running low on gas, so Hawkeye pulled into an all night gas station. He turned off the engine, opened the door, and climbed out. Somewhat frazzled, he leaned against the car for a moment as he collected himself. After a couple minutes he stood up and walked around to the other side of the car. Hawkeye opened the door to the gas tank, connected the hose, and started the pump. He let the tank fill on its own as he looked around.

The gas station was small and very quaint. It was indeed what one would call a 'fixer upper'. It needed a good paint job and new sign. Hawkeye pulled a cigarette out of his back pocket and proceeded to light it as he waited. He'd never intentionally picked up smoking, it was just a long forming habit. With the stress and lack of alcohol, he had to turn to something.

"I thought you were going to quit?" A low voice suddenly broke the solitude of the night air. Hawkeye didn't look up, instead he turned his back to him and looked into the distance.

"I am," he said simply as he blew the smoke into the wind.

"I like your method," Trapper's voice was playing.

"Are you worried what they'll think?" Hawkeye turned his head and looked at him. He had his hands shoved into his back pockets.

"Are you?"

"This is my last one, don't worry." Hawkeye turned his gaze back to the sky.

"I'm not worried." Trapper walked over to the pump and finished off the tank. He hung the pump up and shut the tank door. "Smoking isn't a sin you know. There's nothing wrong with it. Besides, they've seen you smoke before. They've smoked them selves at some time or another."

"Yeah, I know. It's just not the thing 'Hawkeye' did. I don't plan on lighting up the whole time we're there." He threw his cigarette on the ground and stepped on it. "At least not while I'm around any of them. I don't need any more grief than what I already know is coming."

"There's nothing embarrassing about it Hawk. You're going through a rough time. You were in a bad accident. That was a terrible, terrible, thing that happened to you. I don't blame you one bit," Trapper told him. He felt bad for his friend.

Hawkeye looked at the other man; he was leaning against the car again and watching him with an intense look. "Whose turn is it to pay for the gas?" He changed the subject. Hawkeye pulled out his wallet.

"Yours I believe." Trapper said simply.

"Fine." Hawkeye turned around and walked into the small gas station. He paid the bill and then walked back outside. "It's your turn to drive. I'm exhausted." He tossed Trapper the keys.

Hawkeye opened the rickety old door and walked into the mess tent. It was just as dingy and foul smelling as it always was. He stood in line for chow, holding the steal tray in his hands. Igor slapped a scoop of mush onto his plate and handed him a stale roll. Hawkeye felt it in his hand; it was harder than rock. Silently he filled his mug with coffee and looked around the tent in search of a seat. Every spot was taken; it was a packed house.

He spotted an open seat at the end of a bench on the other side of the room. Swiftly he moved across the tent, hoping to beat anyone else who had seen it. Hawkeye sat down beside a group of corpsmen who were talking quietly among them selves. At the other end of the table he could see Margaret and Charles eating dinner.

Hawkeye took a bite of his mashed beans as he watched them closely. Margaret was sitting on one side of the table and Charles was on the other. Charles was grinning widely at something, but Hawkeye hadn't a clue over what. They were sitting with their heads close together, whispering in low voices.

They weren't eating, which Hawkeye thought was weird, but just talking and smiling. Hawkeye watched as Charles's hand enclosed over Margaret's. He watched as he brought his head down to hers and whispered something into her ear. Margaret smiled and laughed lightly as Charles continued to speak.

Charles moved back, just enough to look into her sparkling blue eyes. Slowly he moved his head again, this time towards her mouth, and kissed her gently on the lips. Hawkeye's eyes went wide as he continued to watch the two majors kiss. He dropped his fork onto the table and starred with disbelief.

Hawkeye thought he was having a stroke. This was unreal, Margaret kissing that jackass right in the middle of the mess tent. He didn't know what was happening, his fists were clenched tightly and it was becoming harder to breathe. Suddenly he was on his feet, walking quickly towards them. Hawkeye reached out to touch Charles's shoulder…..

"Wahoo!" Trapper's voice ran out loudly. Suddenly Hawkeye's eyes flew open. He sat up and looked around. It was daylight and they were driving through the desert. Trapper looked at him, "You okay? You seemed to be a little restless."

"Where are we?" Hawkeye asked groggily. Blindly he looked for his sunglasses, the sun was bright.

"California!" Trapper announced happily.

"Already?" Hawkeye found them and put them on.

"Yes sleeping beauty. You were out for over five hours."

"Five hours?" He stretched. "It doesn't feel like it."

"Look at the clock, it's already eight."

Hawkeye looked the clock, it was indeed eight O'clock. "How far to San Francisco?" He took off his hat and stuck his head out the already open window. The wind felt good as it blew over his face and through his hair.

"I'd say about three to four hours," Trapper responded. "And about a half hour after that to the Hunnicutt's house."

"Ahh….." Hawkeye groaned. "I'm too tired to see them today. Can't we just take a detour?"

"Sorry Hawk. I told BJ Hunnicutt I'd call him when we got to the city. And I told him that would today around noon."

Hawkeye looked at the other man with distaste, "You know something, you two have never met, yet you talk like you've been friends for years."

"Oh we do not. Is it my fault I have to act like your answering service?" Trapper told him back. He looked the road again as he drove.

"My answering service? You're the one that dragged me on this road trip!" He yelled.

"You know something? I don't get you. I don't get you at all. What are you so afraid of?" Trapper asked as he continued to drive.

Hawkeye sank into his seat as he watched the landscape pass by. How could he tell Trapper what he was feeling? He would never understand his paranoia, especially since he was apart of the problem. "I don't know," he finally breathed.

"Well there's something bothering you. Is there anything you want to talk about?"

Hawkeye looked at his friend, he was just trying to help. "No. I'll be fine," he told him softly. "I just have a lot I need to sort out." Hawkeye let out delayed breath and closed his eyes again. Trapper looked at him; maybe it would be best just to let him be.

They sat in silence for a while, watching as the barren Californian desert passed outside their open windows. Finally Trapper said, "BJ said there were going to be a lot of people from the 4077th there."

"Oh yeah?" His tone was slightly more curious, yet never turned his head to look at Trapper.

"He said that Colonel Potter and his wife Millie are going to be there."

"Mildred." Hawkeye corrected him.

Trapper hadn't caught his mistake, "Huh?"

"Her name is Mildred, not Millie," he told him flatly. Hawkeye looked at the other man.

"I'm sorry, Mildred." He prolonged her name, emphasizing the 'ed' on the end. "He also said Father Mulcahy was going to the be there as well as the Klingers….."

"Klinger came home?" Hawkeye interrupted. "Did he say whether they found her family or not?" Hawkeye had really hoped they would, something good needed to come from the war.

"He didn't say."

"Oh." Now he'd have to wait until they got there. Great, one thing to look forward to. "Who else?"

"A couple nurses," he grinned.

Trapper wasn't very informative. He was over sexed. "Anyone else?"

"Yeah. Charles Winchester, the O'Reillys, you and me," he looked at Hawkeye, hoping he'd catch the joke. Hawkeye noticed and looked him with a raised eyebrow. "He also said Margaret Houlihan was going to be there."

Hawkeye felt his heart start to pound faster. He wasn't sure how he felt about seeing her again. Of course he wanted to see her, at least he thought he did, maybe he did.

"I'm not sure about Frank Burns," Trapper went on. He would never guess Hawkeye had feelings for Margaret, he'd never seen them act civil to one another.

"God I hope not. Could you imagine what he'd be like? He'd be impossible!" Hawkeye complained.

"Ah yes, Senator Burns of Indiana. He'd just love to rub that in our faces. I still don't believe it."

"I nearly died when I found out," Hawkeye said in disgust. Frank Burns had talked about going into politics once in Korea, but Hawk had never thought about taking him seriously. When Frank was elected Senator, Hawkeye had been chatting with a friend in the local hardware store back home. The next thing he knew he was lying on the floor with his father standing over him. Someone thought to call the doctor when his son fainted.

"I know. Louise didn't understand why I was standing in the living room, yelling and swearing. She was really scared of me for a while, afraid I'd lost my mind."

"What's so scary about that?"

"I did it nonstop for two days," Trapper laughed. Hawkeye laughed with him. Least to say, they were both shocked at the news. Together the two men laughed for a couple more minutes. It was acting as more of a stress reliever than anything else. When they were through, Hawkeye felt better, almost as if a small weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Laughter had always made him feel better, that's why it was constantly there during the war.

We're getting really close now; I can feel the anticipation in my stomach. There are going to be lots of questions, I just know there are. They're going to want to know what happened to me and where I've been. I'd rather not tell everyone my deepest fears and the struggle I've had this past year. It's felt more like ten than one. Everyone's changed, we've learned to get along without the others.

I don't know why I'm scared. Maybe I'm scared of rejection and that I won't belong. That's silly, you don't have to tell me, to be afraid of my best friends, and yet I am. When I came back from the mental institution, there seemed to be something different between me and everyone else. They seemed to scared of me or something, almost as if I was going to hurt them. I would never hurt any of them, not on my life.

Margaret was somewhat clingy to me at that time, which I never understood rather than enjoyed. She confused me a great deal; either wanting to know where I was at all times or too frightened to touch me. Now I don't know how she'll act when she sees me again.

Hawkeye stood by the car as drank a Coke and waited as Trapper called the Hunnicutt residence. "Hello BJ?…… Peg?….. I'm sorry, this is John McIntyre…...yes we're very close…..good…...yes very much…..uh huh……yes ma'am…..no ma'am…..oh I'd say in about an hour…..yes……I'm not sure…...I believe so…..which road was that again?" This went on for several minutes, all of which Hawkeye found very amusing. It seemed as if Peg Hunnicutt were giving Trapper the run around. "Yes…..I got that. It's on the beach right?…..Who's all going to be there today?……Oh really?…..Dinner?…..No, I'm not sure. Anything is fine. Should we wear something nice?….."

Trapper then turned his head and looked at Hawkeye. He was sitting on the hood of the car holding his bottle of Coke. Trapper looked him up and down, he was wearing his faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt. On his head he was wearing a tattered old baseball cap and black sunglasses. They both pretty much looked like that, needing a shave badly and in desperate need of a shower. "Do you think we'd have a chance to wash up first?" He asked Peg. Trapper finished his phone call and hung up the phone. He then turned to his friend, "She said to take our time. Not everyone has arrived from the airport yet and they still have to go pick up the rest." Trapper said as he tossed Hawkeye the keys.

"Well they don't actually live in Mill Valley anymore you know." Hawkeye walked around the car and got in on the driver's side. "They bought a house outside of town on the beach."

"I remember. You've told me before." Trapper got in beside him. Hawkeye started the car and pulled out of the parking lot. They got onto the highway and made their way into San Francisco. "Isn't that the hospital BJ works at?" Trapper turned in his seat as they passed a large building.

Hawkeye adverted his eyes to look at the building. "How am I supposed to know? You're the one that's been talking with him, not me."

"Look! I think you can see the Golden Gate from here!" Trapper turned again and pointed across the water. He stuck his head out the car window to get a better look. Hawkeye saw it as well, to him it was another reminder they were getting closer.

Hawkeye picked up the map and threw it at Trapper's back. "Here, make yourself useful. I can't read and drive at the same time in this traffic." Trapper pulled his torso back into the car and sat back in his seat. He picked up the map and opened it up.

"You need to get off at this next exit," Trapper told him.

Hawkeye sat in awe as they entered the small suburb of Mill Valley. It was just as BJ had described so many times in Korea, not too big and not too small. It wasn't anything to compare to Crabapple Cove, but it was quaint. Hawkeye's hometown was a small fishing village, not a flashy, picturesque, San Franciscan suburb.

They drove for another few minutes through the town and out onto a secluded road. After five minutes they came along the pacific cost line. "Which road are we looking for?" Hawkeye asked as the drove along the beach.

"Um….." Trapper flipped through his wallet for a small slip of paper with the address. "Here it is," he announced when he found it. "7854 Octavia Road. It's a private road. Peg said to be careful, the sign is overgrown and can be tricky to see."

"There's a fork up here," Hawkeye pointed out. "Do I take Vallejo Road or Serra Boulevard?"

"Vallejo Road," Trapper said as he read the instructions.

"Okay right, so we're looking for Octavia Lane," he told himself as he began to watch for signs. "Parrott Alley…..Peralta Road….. Portola Drive," Hawkeye read as the passed several small roads.

"Here's another one coming up," Trapper said as he tried to read the small sign, "Valencia Street. That sounds familiar, I think we're getting close."

"Oh wait!" Hawkeye suddenly said, "I think this is it….." He angled his head to get a better look around a large bush. "It is," he said flatly. They turned onto a small gravel road and drove a ways in the brush. After driving about a quarter of a mile, they came to a large white house. Hawkeye stopped the car before they reached the large driveway.

"Finally," Trapper breathed as he relaxed into his seat. "I was beginning to think we'd never get here."

Hawkeye didn't say anything; instead he admired the Hunnicutt's home. It was a fairly good-sized house with a porch extending from both levels and a swing on the first level. In some ways it reminded Hawkeye of his home back in Maine, except his father's house was made of stone and twice as large, the way most homes were built in Crabapple Cove, but it the serenity with the woods and the beach in the background reminded him of home.

I've been surprising feelings and anxieties for a year now; this is the end of the line. We drove for over a week, never once stopping to sleep. The sleep I did get was tainted, so I'm not sure I how much I can count that. It's nothing though; I've had surges that lasted longer. Trapper's pulling me from the car and to my feet. For the first time I notice there's only one car in the driveway, shouldn't there be more? He's almost pulling me along now, as if he's holding my hand like I'm a little boy. I pull against him and force him to let go. Again we begin to walk towards the front door.

Images keep flashing through my mind; Margaret kissing Frank, Margaret kissing Donald, Margaret kissing Charles, all of which happened. They might not have known it, but I saw when she kissed him in the mess tent in front of everybody. My blood boils whenever I think about that.

"Hawk, come on. Stop dillydallying." Trapper said as he pushed Hawkeye forward.

"Doesn't something look odd to you?" Hawkeye planted his feet again. "There are no cars here." He pointed to the empty driveway. "No one's here, we should leave."

"No Hawkeye, someone has to be here. They know we're coming." He gave his friend a shove in the back. Hawkeye stumbled forward. "Peg told me they'd be there. Mostly everyone is flying in remember?"

Hawkeye knew he was right, he just didn't want to listen. "Yeah."

"Come on, knock on the door." Hawkeye looked up to see they were indeed standing on the front porch. He raised his hand to knock on the door when…..

"Hawk?" A new voice boomed in front of him. Two arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a giant bear hug. He was being squeezed tightly, so tight he was having trouble breathing. Hawkeye patted the new person on the back and was released just enough to look him in the face.

"I can't believe you're here," BJ smiled widely at him. He had been looking forward to his best friend coming for some time. The whole week had been eagerly pacing through the house. "You have no idea how great it is to see you."

Hawkeye smiled uncomfortably at his old friend, "You're looking good BJ," lightly. "I see Peg made you shave off that ridiculous mustache."

"First night I was back," he laughed and patted Hawk on the back. "And you must be Trapper," BJ suddenly released Hawkeye and reached past him to shake Trapper's hand.

"It's nice to finally put a face to the voice," Trapper said as he shook BJ's hand in return.

"Like wise. I feel I know you already, all our phone calls and all," BJ grinned. He elbowed Hawkeye in the ribs, "And not to mention what he told me in Korea."

"Yes I know. I was able to fish a few things out of him myself," Trapper looked at Hawkeye who was rubbing his side. He was staring at the two men, looking somewhat bewildered at what was going on.

"Did you guys have a nice drive?" BJ asked them, looking from Hawkeye and back to Trapper.

"Oh it was fine," Trapper answered before Hawkeye could. "I've had worse road trips."

BJ laughed at that, "Apparently so, to drive from Boston to California in one week is pretty impressive."

"Beej," Hawkeye suddenly cut in. "Where is everyone? It's pretty quiet around here." Only the sound of the waves washing upon the beach could be heard in the background.

"Well," BJ put a hand into his pants pocket; "Peg went to pick up Charles, Margaret, and the Potters." He told them. Hawkeye's chest tightened when he heard Margaret's name.

Trapper looked at him, "Can you fit all those people into one car?"

BJ smiled proudly, "We recently bought one of those new Station Wagons, they can hold a lot of people."

"So I've heard," Trapper told him. "Louise and I were thinking of buying one."

"Where are Louise and the kids by the way?"

"At her parent's house. It's their 50th wedding anniversary."

"Wow," BJ exclaimed. "What about you? Didn't they want you there as well?"

"Her parents don't like me too much," he admitted.

"Ah, I see," BJ said with a grin.

"Yeah, so no one minded that I came here instead. I'm just sorry you all couldn't meet the girls," Trapper said somewhat sadly. He really wanted to show off his daughters.

"Well, we'll have to have another get-together in Boston next time. Keep things interesting," BJ smiled.

"Sounds great," Trapper smiled back. The only who wasn't smiling however, was Hawkeye. He felt weird standing between them as they carried on the conversation. So he decided to move things along.

"So you only said a few people were coming back with Peg, what about the others?"

"The O'Reillys and the Klingers will be flying in later tonight. Their flights don't land until seven O'clock and a quarter after. The others are arriving tomorrow."

"How far is it from the airport?" Hawkeye asked him.

"San Francisco." BJ said quickly. "Peg should be back any moment. I thought it was them when you pulled up." BJ looked at Hawkeye strangely; suddenly he enveloped Hawkeye into another smothering hug. "It's so great to see you Hawk, I've really missed you." Hawkeye was a little taken back, he wasn't expecting that.

"Yeah, me too." Hawkeye said passively. "So, how's home life treating you?"

"It's great," he smiled widely again. "I love it. Nothing's ever been so wonderful. Peg has been really supportive and Erin, well Erin is just the best thing to ever happen to me."

Hawkeye grinned, "I'm glad. How is that going, with Erin I mean?"

"It was a little tough in the beginning, she didn't remember me. I'd say she warmed up to me about a week after I was home. Now she won't go anywhere with out me." All three men smiled warmly.

"So when do we get to see the little beauty?" Hawkeye asked eagerly. He'd heard about her for two years and was excited about finally meeting her.

"She's sleeping right now. I just set her down for her afternoon nap. She should be awake in about two hours."

"That's fine. As long as I get to see her before we leave."

"Don't worry. I wouldn't allow you to leave otherwise."

The three men stood there for a while, talking and laughing. Hawkeye was starting to finally loosen up. Trapper was talking mid sentence when BJ interrupted him. "They're here," he said as he pushed passed them eagerly. Hawkeye and Trapper turned around to see a tan Station Wagon pull into the driveway. The engine turned off and the driver's side door opened up. A fairly tall, blonde woman emerged from the car, automatically Hawkeye knew who that was, he'd seen tons of pictures.

BJ walked over and kissed Peg before opening the back door and helping another person from the car. Hawkeye and Trapper stood where they were, watching as the car emptied. An elderly woman took BJ's hand and stepped out, Hawkeye knew her too, that was Mildred Potter. Followed behind her was the inevitable (former) Colonel Potter, he looked just as he had when Hawkeye said goodbye to him.

Colonel Potter gave BJ a warm hug before each introduced their wives. Mildred gave BJ a kiss on the cheek and Peg gave the old man a big hug. During all this, Charles Emerson Winchester got out behind them. Hawkeye watched as he stretched and then extended his hand to the last person…..

I always told myself that there was something wrong with me, that was my reasoning for her never liking me. Sometimes I believed there was something wrong with her, for dating all those other men and always side looking the one person who would treat her the way she deserved. I don't care about that now, all that got left in Korea, or so I like to think. BJ tried to call me, I know that, but no one else did, not even her.

I'm having to plant my feet firmly to the ground to keep from running away. The whole gang isn't here yet, but all I want to do is hide. Isn't that terrible, wanting to hide from your friends? I remember when I told Margaret how I would never want to be a turtle in any life, that I'd be too afraid to hide in my own shell. The funny thing is though, now I'm too afraid to come out.

Margaret Houlihan gracefully stepped out of the car and onto the pavement beside the others. She let out a small cry when she saw BJ and automatically flew into his arms. The others watched as the two friends hugged each other tightly, then parting momentarily to gaze upon the other's face. BJ laughed again and then pulled her back into a tight embrace. When they let go, Charles and BJ shook hands as Margaret hugged her commanding officer for the first time. Hawkeye wasn't sure, they were standing too far away, but he thought she was crying.

Sentiments and greeting were exchanged in soft, tearful voices. Hawkeye and Trapper stood where they were, watching the scene before them. "Do you think they even know we're here?" Trapper leaned over and whispered into Hawkeye's ear. Hawkeye shrugged in response, he was watching the reunion too closely to pay attention.

"Why don't Charles and I collect the bags while Peg shows you the house, I'm sure you're exhausted from your flights," BJ's voice became suddenly loud. The others agreed and turned to follow Peg to the house, that was when they saw the two men standing by the porch.

Margaret's eyes darted between the two men's faces, not really believing what she was seeing. She was shocked to see Trapper, it had been three years since she had seen him last. BJ had told her he was going to be there, she didn't know why she was surprised.

Her eyes locked suddenly on Hawkeye, as if she hadn't seen him in fifty years. No one had said anything about him being there, no one even knew where he was. He caught her gaze and they stared at one another just as they had before their kiss in Korea.

"Pierce! Son is that really you!" The Colonel asked excitedly, interrupting their thoughts. "Well I'll be," he started. "I thought maybe you had fallen off the face of the Earth!" He gave Hawkeye a big hug, catching him off guard.

Hawkeye laughed uneasily, "Something like that you could say."

"I'm glad you came," he told him warmly and gripped his shoulder "I promised Mildred she'd get to meet you one day."

"Thank you Colonel."

Turning his attention to Trapper the Colonel asked, "And who is this?"

Extending his hand Trapper introduced himself. "John McIntyre, pleased to meet you."

"As in Trapper McIntyre?" He asked shaking his hand.

"That would be me."

Potter laughed, shaking his hand with more enthusiasm. "Ha! I've heard a lot about you son."

"Hopefully not everything," Trapper smiled.

Potter turned and put his arm around a very attractive, older woman. "I'd like you both to meet my wife Mildred," Sherman introduced her. Gesturing to each of them he said, "Mildred, this is Hawkeye Pierce and John McIntyre."

"It's a pleasure to meet you both," she shook their hands. "I've heard so much about you."

Hawkeye blushed slightly, "You shouldn't believe everything you hear."

Mildred smiled warmly at him, Sherman had told her about his ordeal. She felt sorry for him, it was clear he was still a little shaken up. "Nonsense," she reassured him. He'd be embarrassed and frankly a little upset if he knew what Sherman had said. "I'm just so happy I finally get to meet you."

"So am I," He smiled at her. Mildred could see he was still a little hesitant, she could understand why he was uncomfortable. Without much warning she pulled Hawkeye into a warm embrace, she thought he looked like he needed a hug. Hawkeye hugged her back graciously, she had read his mind.

"Margaret Houlihan….." Trapper smiled as he walked over to her while all this was taking place. "You haven't changed a bit."

"It's been a long time Trapper," she welcomed him into a hug. "It's been a long time."

"Don't I know it. Almost three years." When they pulled away he looked her up and down. "You're just as beautiful as you were back then, if not more." Margaret blushed slightly.

"Are you trying to get on my good side?" She questioned him curiously, yet still playing along.

"Is it working?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes," she smiled as they hugged again. They hadn't gotten along during the war, but in actuality he wasn't a bad guy. There was no reason why they couldn't be friends now.

"And I believe you know my friend here." Hawkeye was standing behind him listening to passively to the Potters. Trapper turned around and put his hand on his shoulder. Hawkeye turned to see who was beckoning to him, expecting to find Charles or BJ, but stopped when he noticed Margaret's cool, blue eyes staring directly at him. Their eyes locked, yet neither said a word.

They stood there for a moment staring at one another until finally Margaret said, "Yes I do, very well," she smiled weakly at Hawkeye, now having forgotten Trapper. Her sole focus was on the man standing right in front of her.