Pure disbelief crossed his once-handsome features, but a spark of laughter still lit his bright blue eyes as he gazed up the length of the building's high walls, slinging an arm around the shoulders of his best friend.

"By God," he whispered, a low chuckle drifting forth. "I never believed it'd happen."

"Me neither, Hawk. Me neither."

The two tall men stood side by side, gazing at the glass double doors with their curly gold lettering across the front. They read, 'In memory of Dr. Frank M. Burns, PhD.' The blonde woman beside Hawkeye snorted loudly, breaking the silence, and muttered, "I did."

"Me too," added the short man at her side, pushing his glasses up his nose. He had a childish face, though it was lined with many years of hard farm life. "Whatever happened t'all those papers he said were gonna be in his college library? The ones he wrote when he was CO of the place?"

"They're all in there," Hawkeye replied, pointing. Many rows of windows gleamed in the sunlight, and Margaret shielded her eyes against the blinding reflection. She reached down and lay her other hand on the shoulder of a man in a wheelchair, who grinned up at her. Colonel Potter, now just Sherman, gestured vaguely toward the brand-new building.

"Now we can honestly say that old ferret face really helped someone," he laughed.

Klinger, whose dresses had long-since been swapped for something slightly more masculine, said seriously, "It's true. This building will help a lot of people, old and young, men and women..."

"And anything in between," Hawkeye muttered with a suggestive look at Klinger.

"Yeah," Margaret said with a small sigh, ignoring her husband completely. "I actually almost wish that Frank had been here to see the dedication."

"I doubt he would've been happy to see us here," BJ said with a small smile.

"Colleagues... they invited us as colleagues," Hawkeye scoffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets and shrugging. "We were more than old no-lips' colleagues; we were his roomies! His family!"

"His tormentors!" BJ chimed in.

"His superior officers!" said Colonel Potter.

"His punching bag," Radar grumbled.

"His nightly entertainment," Hawkeye joked unwisely, pointing a long finger at Margaret, and a sharp, angry crack caused passersby to stare as Margaret's palm connected with cheek, and the group erupted with laughter.

"To Frank!" called Hawkeye, raising his arms up and beaming broadly. Despite the innumerable troubles the man had caused them many years past, the former company of MASH 4077 simultaneously saluted the Major, as they stood on the well-manicured lawn of the Frank M. Burns Mental Health Institute in Fort Wayne, Indiana.