To the one whom I love,

I could have sworn when you first came into my life, that if I'd pull out a thesaurus and looked up the word bigot – Charles Emmerson Winchester III, would have been the first term listed.

You were pompous, self-righteous, mean, demanding and any other type of negative behaviour one might think of.

However, as time went on – I began to notice your good qualities subtly peeking through the ugliness. I discovered that you were also full of compassion and determination. You are also highly empathetic, but most of all you have a wonderful sense of humour.

You know, it really is a shame that you rarely let your playful side shine through. With your big ole' brain and coffers full of dough; you could have pulled some of the most hilarious practical jokes that the Army had ever seen.

Now that's not saying that the stunts you did pull weren't noteworthy. Some of the ones that make my list are the time you stole the canvas from Margaret's tent, and the time you duped me with damned rubber snake when Beej and I were having our joke off. I tell you – nothing can get a person out of bed faster than realize that there is potentially a poisonous snake slithering between the sheets.

Unfortunately, you were on the brunt end of many of mine and BJ's jokes. I'll never forget the whole dropping your drawers in the O.R debacle. Boy, were you sure livid with us! While I did get into trouble up to my hinny with Potter – as well as the rest of the camp – it was all worth it in the end. The memory of the mortified expression on your face has provided me with many a laugh over the years.

Since the armistice was signed, I'm sure that we've only seen each other a handful of times. But the connection we shared whilst living in the garbage dump that was the Swamp, has left a great impact on me.

I don't know if you've heard or not … but I'm near the end of my journey, Chuckles. That's right – I've finally drank myself to death. I'm in the final stage of acute liver failure.

I have pondered back and forth about whether or not I should write this letter, seeing as how separate our lives have been since the war.

I am all alone in the hospital. Nobody is here to hold my hand and weep over my body when I'm gone. I made sure of it the second I picked up the bottle after Margaret left me.

I don't think I can leave though, until I share this one last memory with you. During the latter end of the war, my Father was admitted to the hospital for surgery and there was no way I could reach him.

You saw how visibly tormented I was, and proceeded to share with me the nature of your relationship with your own Father. Hearing about your cold and uncaring relationship made me realize just how important my own Dad was in my life.

My Mom died when I was only ten years old, leaving Dad to raise me by himself. I don't think I ever mentioned this to anybody before, but before Mom passed away – Dad was actually a practising general surgeon. He was a damn good one too! Dad gave it all up though, because he knew that he could not be a brilliant surgeon and good parent at the same time.

Him settling for the mediocre life as a small time family doctor was the best gift he ever could have gave me – himself.

You waiting around with me for a call from that day meant for to me that I can even describe.

From what I hear, your life has turned out exactly the way you hoped it would. There is one thing that I know you did leave behind in Korea – your love of music.

Now I could go on and on, and spew out meaningless dribble about how to get it back. I won't bore you with that though, because I know from my own personal experiences that it is impossible. To this day, I still cannot eat chicken without wanting to run away and hide… Chickens in turn make me think of that little baby that was smothered to death, just because I was screaming at her Mother to quiet it down.

I found out the hard way that not even the strongest batch of gin, can supress those awful memories.

My dying wish for you is this: learn to let yourself go once in an awhile. Laugh more and scowl less. Stop worrying about upholding the Winchester name so much, and starting acting like an average joe.

How about the next time you want to go out for supper – don't go to some highbrow, five star restaurant where you can only get in if you are wearing a double breasted tuxedo. Instead, put on a pair of slacks, a flannel shirt and go to Burger King or McDonalds. Hell, you should even wear socks and sandals!

On a more serious note, I that hope you continue to live for many, many, years to come. Thank you for memories we shared while we endured the living hell that was Korea.

Yours truly,

"Hawkeye" Benjamin Franklin Pierce

A/N: So here is the second one. Please drop review if you wish! :)