It became a kind of rallying cry: Seoul—soon. They signed off every one of their letters with it. But it was a Herculean task to coordinate their schedules and time off. The war was too unpredictable. Both hospitals were being kept very busy; R&R was like a dream that would never materialize.

Dear B.J., We're going to figure this out, I promise you. Sooner or later we're bound to hit a slow patch…

Dear Hawkeye, I feel like such an idiot for pushing you away. You were here and we could have been together, and I stupidly said no. I miss you so much. Is Seoul ever going to happen? I know, keep the faith, right? I can hear you saying it…

Months passed. The 4077th treated hundreds of wounded…maybe thousands; Hawkeye didn't keep count. He and B.J. exchanged letters on a nearly daily basis. R&R in Seoul seemed alternately right around the corner and much too far out of reach. It was maddening. It was also all he lived for.

It had to pan out eventually. And eventually, it did.

Dear B.J., Casualties permitting, I can get to Seoul this weekend…

By God, nearly six months since the last time they'd seen each other, they finally worked it out. Their long-awaited, long-planned mutual R&R in Seoul. Hawkeye went to sleep every night praying that the war wouldn't heat up and bring wounded for the weekend.

His prayers were answered.

"Room 107, sir. Your, uh, friend is already checked in." Hawkeye thanked the desk clerk, ignoring the suspicious look he was getting from the man. Let him think whatever he wants to think. What do I care?

He jiggled the key nervously as he walked to the room. He paused for a second outside the door and took a deep breath to try to calm his nerves. Finally he walked in, and B.J. was standing there across the room, pouring himself a drink from a bottle of wine.

He was a vision. Hawkeye noted that his hair was longer, his face a little more drawn, his body getting thinner and starting to show the stress of being a surgeon in the middle of a war. Despite all that, he looked positively stunning.

"Hi," Hawkeye said as he simultaneously dropped his suitcase and shut the door behind him. Already he was having difficulty controlling his breathing.

"Hi," B.J. replied, frozen in place and just staring from across the room.

Hawkeye had never been in a more sexually charged situation in his life. And that was really saying something. His pulse was racing; the room felt like it was on fire.

He casually walked over to B.J. and took the drink out of his hand, put it on the desk next to them. He reached up and touched the man's smooth cheek, stroking it a little, as B.J.'s eyes fell shut. They were both breathing fast now.

Kissing followed quickly—hungry, open-mouthed kisses—as Hawkeye pulled off B.J.'s jacket and dropped it to the floor. B.J.'s hands reached out and landed on Hawk's waist, pulled him in closer.

"Dying for you, Hawk," he whispered between kisses.

"No second thoughts this time?" Hawkeye teased.

"Hell no. I want you—"

Hawkeye cut him off with a desperate kiss, his tongue exploring, his hands pulling at clothing. He wasn't even aware of the needy sounds he was making deep in his throat. He started to steer B.J. over to the bed. They landed there together, limbs tangling and clothes somehow being mercifully removed. Hawkeye was barely registering anything other than the feeling of B.J.'s mouth on his.

Finally both of them were naked, though Hawk had no memory of how they managed to accomplish that. He was nearly frantic with need. He placed his body fully on top of B.J.'s, both of them trembling and panting, their erections solid against each other. Finesse wasn't important, not now, not when the need was so great. They began to grind against one another, friction and heat building and building as the kissing continued. Electricity surged through Hawkeye's body with every thrust.

It didn't take long at all. They came at the same time, clutching each other and groaning their pleasure. In his ecstasy, Hawkeye thought: I've found the person I'm meant to spend my life with. Seemed crazy for Mr. Keep It Casual to have such a thought, but he'd never been so in love in his life. This was uncharted territory for him. His body, mind, and soul were completely wrapped up in the man in his arms.

"I love you, Hawkeye," B.J. said after a moment, his voice raspy.

"Love you too." He rolled to B.J.'s side and ran a hand through the hair on his chest, waiting until B.J. opened his eyes to look at him. "Don't even think about going to sleep, my friend."

B.J. smiled knowingly. "I don't expect to get any sleep for the next three days."

"That's the spirit," Hawkeye said happily.

They rested for a while, talking lazily and running hands over each other's bodies, and then they geared up for round two of lovemaking.

Hawkeye slowly ran a finger down B.J.'s back. "Trust me, OK?" In the darkness, he felt more than saw the nod of B.J.'s head. He whispered, "Just relax."

And B.J. did seem to let go of his tension a little at Hawkeye's words. With infinite tenderness, more than he ever knew he had, Hawkeye sank into his lover and gave a satisfied sigh. He kissed the back of B.J.'s neck. When he began to move, it was with very slow, very gentle thrusts. The other man's moans told him everything he needed to know. He shut his eyes and turned off his brain. No thinking necessary, not now. This was all about feeling.

Their bodies fit together and moved together like yin and yang. Hawkeye had been with countless people in his experience—more women than men, but a good number of both—but this was the first time he could ever remember thinking, We're perfect together.

It was the slowest, sweetest, most amazing sex of his entire life.

It was three days spent in paradise. Three days of love. They barely left the room. They shared laughter and passion; they talked about sharing the future. Neither one knew how to make that happen, but it was a fantasy that didn't seem out of the question as they lay together in their haven.

And when their R&R came to an end, there were kisses, promises, and tears. As they parted, there was a bone-crushing embrace, whispered words of love and commitment.

"We'll see each other soon," Hawkeye mumbled into B.J.'s neck. "We'll make it happen."

B.J. nodded against him. "We will."

And then in a blink, Hawkeye was back at the 4077th, the previous three days already seeming like a dream. Back to work and endless OR sessions, back to a routine he found depressing in a place he hated.

Dear B.J., I miss you…

Dear B.J., I love you…

Dear B.J., I'm going crazy without you…

They continued to write each other and immediately started to plan their next rendezvous, but Hawkeye despaired, knowing it would take another six months, if not more, to coordinate. He couldn't bear the thought of waiting that long. On sleepless nights, he fantasized about going AWOL and taking off with B.J. someplace where they could be alone, away from the war and from anything that would prevent them from being happily together.

Then reality intervened and the world shifted. Before they could arrange another shared R&R, before they could see each other again, the Korean War came to an end.

Hawkeye stood in what remained of his camp, bewildered. It had all happened so fast, and now he was about to leave this place, this country, and possibly never see B.J. again. Oh, they had exchanged their stateside phone numbers and addresses, with promises to be in touch, and soon. But Hawkeye knew B.J. was going back to a wife and daughter, and he feared he was about to be written off as a wartime fling. He hoped B.J. wouldn't do that to him, but he was also realistic enough to know that most men don't leave their families for other men they'd met in a war zone.

As his helicopter took him away from the 4077th for the last time, he looked down on the camp, a thousand different emotions tying his belly into knots. His three years as a meatball surgeon had been hellish, terrifying, gruesome, challenging—all of that and much more. That experience, though, would pale in comparison to the heartbreak he was going to feel if he never saw B.J. Hunnicutt again.

He shut his eyes and thought, Please don't let this be the end.

Three weeks after Hawkeye got back home, he still hadn't heard from B.J. Not a word. No letter, no phone call, nothing. Of course, Hawkeye also hadn't picked up the phone or a pen, so the silence was a two-way street.

He had a perfectly good reason for not getting in touch with his best friend: he was terrified of being rejected, of finding out that B.J. didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He was actually happier not knowing, because at least that gave him a small glimmer of hope. He found himself clinging to that. And dying a little bit every time the phone rang only to discover it wasn't B.J. on the other end.

When the doorbell rang on a bright Saturday afternoon, Hawkeye's only thought was that it was probably the neighbor kid, coming to see if he could mow the lawn and make a few bucks. He certainly never expected to open the door and find B.J. standing there, an uncertain smile on his face and a suitcase at his side.

Hawkeye's heart stopped for a moment. He stood there staring for what seemed like a very long time. He couldn't put two and two together; he kept coming up with zero.

"Beej?"

B.J. didn't speak, only nodded his head slightly and held out his arms, inviting a hug.

They fell together, hugging and clinging, neither one of them able to speak. Hawkeye kissed B.J.'s temple, then his cheek, then his mouth. He shut his eyes and tried to shut out the rush of thoughts in his head, knowing the only thing that mattered was B.J. was here, in his arms, where he belonged.

Hawkeye pulled back a little but kept his hands on B.J.'s arms. He looked into the blue eyes he'd fallen in love with way back in a crowded bar in Seoul, a lifetime ago.

As it happened, neither one of them needed to speak after all. He could read B.J.'s mind.

I'm here to stay. Can I stay?

A sweet smile spread over Hawkeye's face, and he opened the door wide to let B.J. inside.