The day began like any other, cool and brisk to my senses. Although winter was now just a passage in God's diary, here at the 4077th morning always seemed to draw upon those long forgotten days of snowflakes and icicles nonetheless. In truth, spring had rolled its way determinedly through camp and inch by inch its greenery took hold on our little world. Now summer was fast on its heels, the afternoons long and hot, the evenings warm enough to forgo even a light blanket.

But mornings were still mine to cherish.

By now the trees had spread out leisurely beneath the sun's influence, and grass was a fresh green carpet underneath. Nature was the only element of our lives that truly remained free from the restraints of Korea, so you can imagine how glad I was for its presence. I breathed it in, long and deep and forever grateful.

I rounded out my morning run with some stretches and listened for that old familiar pop of aging bones I'd come to expect and almost enjoy. This also was an aspect of life that allowed me to pretend I was back in the states.

It was Sunday, my day...well, His day, really. Just another familiar habit to me, like putting on an old cassock or reading from the bible. Usually I'd fall into the old routine but...not today.

Margaret – Major Houlihan – was to be married this afternoon to one Lt. Col. Donald Penobscot, a man she'd met on a trip to Tokyo for a nurse's convention on medicine.

I really didn't know him at all which was odd considering the long engagement, but the two seemed quite in love. They'd come to me a few days prior requesting my presence in overseeing the ceremony. I happily agreed at the time but...something weighed heavily on my mind since then.

The rest of Camp had warmed to him within reasonable time I suppose, with the notable exception of Major Burns who had, during a trip to Seoul, suffered a breakdown of sorts and approached some poor wife of a general with not so upstanding intentions. As far as I was aware, the man was still AWOL.

But that wasn't why today bothered me.

It was about seven thirty in the morning – more than enough time for last minute preparations I decided.

Determinedly I swept my face for signs of wear and tear. The original intention, slumped over a bit of mirror at my desk, was to look reasonably well-groomed today. Something proving quite difficult for this old priest, I might add.

I traced a patch of grey about my temple, questioning how age had seemingly caught up overnight. Certainly this was not a new development, how could I have missed it until now? Perhaps in the right light it would pass for blond.

From the shadows of my desk I drew a tiny bottle, checking quickly to make sure I was alone in the tent. Examining it skeptically, I noticed no title or instructions could be found anywhere. No label even. Just a brown bottle filled with liquid.

That left me feeling unsettled, shifting the container around with a hand.

I had borrowed the cologne from Klinger, it being the least 'girlish' scent he owned. An uncomfortable exchange indeed – a priest requesting scented goods from another man. But fortunately Klinger had shrugged it off as just another Section Eight tactic.

Apparently even Chaplains were desperate to go home.

A light woody musk greeted my nose and with a sigh of relief, I found it to be pleasant enough. Actually, it smelled almost like...sandalwood now that I thought about it. A bit drier and rugged around the edges, but it agreed with me.

I dabbed a spot behind my ear, feeling quite silly. I'd never actually worn the stuff before but I had once seen a movie where a woman applied perfume in a similar fashion. I think it was Doris Day. Anyway, I prayed it was employed the same way for men and foolishly went about the finishing touches.

From camel to chamomile, any number of strange odors could have come out of an unmarked bottle of Klinger's. I was glad to have some luck left in these tired old bones.

I frowned and tilted the mirror this way and that, shrugging a few creases from my garment. Even my cassock was looking old and threadbare today, matching its master in age. I briefly entertained wearing my turtleneck and khakis, but Major Houlihan would never approve.

"Morning, France."

The warm voice of Lena washed over me. I was back on my way to reality, feeling myself smile as the door shut with a soft thud. I didn't bother to turn as this too was a familiar routine.

With a wisp of perfume Lena greeted me, her heavenly scent drifting toward my nose. I sagged immediately, temporarily lost in its sweet bouquet. Sometimes I wondered if she ever truly knew how much our friendship affected me. How I could be so irresponsibly grateful for such a simple gesture as walking through my door.

"Good morning my dear," I returned a bit more detached than intended, still peering at the bit of mirror in my hands. For some reason my cross looked out of place. I frowned and tested it in various positions to no avail.

It was then I noticed the clock on my desk.

"Goodness, it isn't even eight yet – I didn't expect you for another hour in the least."

"Oh I just had to get out," she declared with a laugh. I heard the telltale signs of her sitting on my bed and relished at how normal that seemed now.

"All kinds of nurses kept flooding in to help with makeup and hair. With all that rouge and hairspray it'll be a miracle if Colonel Penobscot recognizes his bride at all."

I nodded knowingly and adjusted my necklace for the umpteenth time. Although the two were still bunkmates, the Major and Lena had never warmed to one another. I set down the mirror so I could use both hands, fiddling like a discontent child in their Sunday clothes.

"Well, you are always welcome here, Lena."

Sudden frustration with my outfit broke the dam.

"I just can't get this to sit properly – I don't know what the problem is. Lately nothing looks right to me."

A pair of hands reached around my neck and found my own, unclasping them gently from the cross. Lena's face appeared a moment later behind me in the mirror. Her eyes were occupied with something so she didn't notice my temporarily falter, nor the way I instinctively leaned into her scent.

"Silly," her voice was just a hair above a whisper in my ear, "you have it wrapped around itself, see? Completely tangled. That's why it isn't sitting right."

It had been months since our first encounter, that day within the threshold of Colonel Potter's quarters, but still the girl took my breath away. She smartly undid the knot and laid it back down properly on my chest. Her hands, however, lingered on my shoulders a moment longer than necessary.

We'd spent so much time together since my R&R that it almost frightened me how comfortable I could be around this woman. How comfortable she was with me. It seemed so natural to feel her touch...I found myself almost yearning for it.

"So, Francis, are you ready?" She smiled down at me, still holding my shoulders in a relaxed pose. "I know I'm ready for the Major to leave for her honeymoon. It's been nothing but 'Donald' this and 'Donald' that for nearly eight months.

"When she isn't yelling at me for something, that Colonel's many achievements are the only thing she talks about."

She made a face and stuck out her tongue. Even something so blasé held my attention far longer than I cared to admit and I felt my eyes drift unexpectedly. In the reflection, an undone button allowed her delicate bones to peak through and the smoothness of her clavicle had me lost in its spell.

"Oh," I finally managed through the stupor of dizzy fascination, "I suppose compared to Mickey he is the funnier one, but I much prefer Bugs Bunny any day."

I watched Lena's nose crinkle with the workings of puzzlement, and my brain finally digested what my ears had garbled.

"What?" I snapped back to the present and found her bemusement had deepened, "I'm sorry, Lena...I don't think I heard you correctly."

She regarded me for a moment, sweeping a wayward strand of hair behind my ear.

"I wonder what's gotten into you lately," She asked no one in particular, a curious expression warming her gaze. "You've been so distant, France."

She released me, and after a tense moment I once again heard my bed softly creak beneath her petite form.

I had to swallow down a lump before I could trust myself to speak again.

"Oh, it's nothing. Sunday jitters."

I turned reluctantly and found her eyes, a mistake that cost me several long seconds.

She wore a modest grey dress, something I'd seen before on occasion and certainly not overly eye-catching in itself had it been worn by anyone but Lena. Her hair was tied back as usual in a tight bun low on the back of her head. In every meaning of the word this was the same woman I'd spent almost eight months with, playing checkers, exchanging stories, strolling around the compound together.

But something was clearly different about her.

I had to explain to my lungs that a priest should breathe regularly.

"I'm sorry I've not been myself lately, Lena. I've been a little...preoccupied. What with the wedding and all.

"I'm sure it will pass."

It may have not been completely true, but true enough.

Lena's expression wilted as she studied me, sadness clouding her eyes.

"Francis," she reasoned quietly, "you should know by now that if something's bothering you, I notice." She chose this moment to study her hands intently, "there's something else. I know you."

"You do know me," I repeated more to myself than her, listening to the words ring truer than anything else either one of us could have said.

All the dread over this day came rushing back to me. I barely registered Lena as she stood and found her way to my slumping form.

A hand squeezed my arm reassuringly and sent chills down my spine. Another found my chin and raised it carefully so I could look at her where she knelt.

"Today will be wonderful, Francis. I know a lot of what's bothering you is because of this wedding. It might not be...everything on your mind, but...you'll never disappoint us.

"At least," her earnest gaze fell softly to the floor, "you'll never disappoint me."

When her eyes once again found mine the tenderness was something I'd never seen before, and we both sat this way for quite some time, a strange fuzzy breathlessness filling the gaps in our silence. Her hand slowly unwound from me. Shallow uncertainty swam in her sapphire eyes for a brief moment, puzzlement slightly parting her lips. The room felt very warm suddenly, too warm for morning.

"Well," the closeness that once seemed second-nature now left her lightheaded and hesitant, "I suppose I...should let you finish getting dressed...

"I'll see you at the ceremony, France."

As if in a trance she left me, her departure sucking all the warmth from my tent. The cold of morning was mine to cherish again, although rather bitterly in my solitude. Something tightened in my chest as I registered the door closing.

"Lena..."I whispered, afraid of my own voice, "What is the matter with me?"

My resentment at the situation turned inward suddenly. What was happening to our comfortable friendship? For the first time in what seemed forever I felt like I was losing her again. Could this old priest never win?

With a sharp disregard for my appearance I stood and quitted my tent, not even daring another glance into that blasted mirror. It's what threw me, I was sure of it. Vanity was a sin for a reason, after all.

Lena wasn't in the Mess Tent when I searched for her and by instinct I knew she'd be nowhere near Major Houlihan and her collection of nurses. That only left a handful of places the woman would be.

For some nagging reason a nasty little thought assured me she'd be with Hawkeye.

Over these last few months the man had kept his promise to me dutifully. He'd maintained only the purest of relationships with Lena, despite his very nature. He'd been a good friend and I could see how well they interacted with one another. I was almost glad he was in our lives, as he provided a wonderful ear to this old priest most nights at the Officer's Club.

But every time Lena came up in conversation, Hawkeye couldn't help throwing me a look that made me very uncomfortable...as if he was addressing some deep dark secret, although I wasn't in on the joke.

I don't know why but suddenly the thought of Lena spending time with Hawkeye made my blood boil. I almost marched right into the Swamp to break them up, but Colonel Potter spotted me.

"Ah, Padre – just the man I needed to see."

"What? Pardon me, Colonel, I'm rather busy at the moment –" I looked futilely around the man towards my destination, something that seemed miles away to me now.

"As you are plenty aware, mail call was this morning. One of the wounded seems to have interpreted his wife's letter as a Dear John. Had quite a fit and mistook Nurse Kelleye for the woman in question.

"I have him sedated at the moment so he won't do much more harm, but I could use someone to have a good talk with him, if you catch my drift."

With a resigned sigh I noted the firm determination in his eyes and knew I'd lost. "Of course. Happy to help."

"Wonderful, I knew I could count on you." He turned and instructed me with a fleeting order over his shoulder.

"Private Evans will be in bed five. Shouldn't take too long, Padre; you'll be done in time for the festivities."

Oh goodness, it has been a long time hasn't it? I hope you all haven't forgotten about this story, or of Lena and Mulcahy's friendship. I do apologize for taking such a long break from this but I hit a wall and nothing I wrote really seemed right. As it is I think skipping out on such a long chunk of their budding friendship is a very lame attempt at not facing my own demons... and as such I may show 'flashbacks' or make references in the next few chapters to the development of these characters. I am a wuss, really.

Please don't think I've forgotten about finishing this; it isn't a forsaken project. I just need some time to finish properly.

Anyway, I hate Mary Sues and I sincerely hope Lena isn't turning out to be one of them. If their friendship or whatnot seems forced, I apologize. I honestly couldn't get back into this story without stumbling a bit.

I thank you all for reading so far and hope you continue to do so!