Less than a week after he was back at the 4077th, Hawkeye received a letter from B.J. They hadn't really said anything about writing to each other, but when he saw the letter on his bunk after he returned from surgery, he felt relief first, then a kind of giddiness.

Reading B.J.'s intelligent, witty, insightful words only intensified feelings Hawkeye had been harboring from practically the moment they met. There was so much they had in common; there were so many shared ideas. He was constantly thinking of things he wanted to talk to B.J. about.

He picked up his note pad and started a letter of his own.

Dear B.J., It seems weird to say this but I know you'll understand. We don't really know each other that well, but I feel like you're my closest friend over here. I have so much to tell you…

And so the exchanging of letters began, and over the weeks it continued; sometimes Hawkeye would receive several in one week. They told each other about their work, their camps, their childhoods. When Hawkeye lost a patient on the table, he sat down and wrote B.J. about it—anger, heartache, and all—the moment he got back to the Swamp. It felt good to unburden himself to the person he was now referring to as his best friend.

A couple of months had passed since the day he met B.J. in the Seoul bar, and Hawkeye could not get the man off his mind. When there was the occasional gap in between letters, both of them too busy to write, he wondered what was going on in B.J.'s life, in his head.

Dear Hawkeye, I'm almost embarrassed to admit this, but I'm now officially writing to you more often than to my wife. I can't tell her about the things I'm seeing over here, but I know I can tell you all of it. You see the same things and you feel what I feel…

Dear B.J., You can tell me anything…

Hawkeye, formerly the camp Casanova, suddenly didn't feel much like trolling for nurses on his nights off. If there wasn't a poker game or a movie to entertain him, usually he sat down and wrote to B.J. Even if he'd just written him the day before. There never seemed to be a lack of things to say.

Dear B.J., Sometimes I get a cramp in my hand when I'm writing to you, because I'm thinking about all the things I want to tell you and my hand can't keep up with my thoughts. It would be so much easier if you were just here to talk to. I wish you were here to talk to…

Hawkeye put down his pen and rubbed his hand, marveling at the way things happened sometimes. What had started as an intense physical attraction had grown and evolved into the most important relationship in his life right now. He would transfer to the 8063rd in a heartbeat, if he could arrange it.

"The 8063rd needs our help, boys," Colonel Potter addressed the 4077th's surgical staff. "They're a little shorthanded right now. They have a new cutter coming, but he's not due for two or three days, and in the meantime, they're up to their eyebrows in casualties. I'm only going to send one surgeon, and it's only for three days at the most."

"Colonel, I'll go," Hawkeye chirped.

"Awfully nice of you, Pierce, but frankly, it's not your turn," Potter was saying. "I think Winchester is up next, actually."

"Colonel!" Winchester protested. "If Pierce is volunteering, I say let him go."

"Honestly, Colonel," Hawkeye piped up, interrupting Charles before he got a full head of steam. "I'm more than happy to go. I'd rather be busy, and we're having ourselves a lull here, so please. It'll be a nice change of scenery." Tall scenery, 6-foot-4, with the most adorable smile you'd ever hope to see.

Potter gave Winchester the evil eye, but finally nodded. "All right, Pierce. Thank you. The jeep will be waiting for you at 0900. You'd best get packing."

"Captain Pierce?" Their company clerk looked nothing like Radar, but then again, who did? He was on the heavy side, and his breathing sounded labored, as if he'd just run a mile. "The other surgeons are in the OR and are expecting you. The C.O. says you can bunk in the VIP tent."

"I don't mind bunking with the other surgeons," Hawkeye said amiably. "I don't want any special treatment, Corporal."

"Sir, Colonel Robertson is so grateful that you've come to help us that he insists you enjoy our VIP tent. Please."

Hawkeye sighed and followed as the Corporal led the way to his quarters. So much for sharing a tent with B.J., but then again, it wasn't like they were going to end up snuggling on his cot, for Pete's sake.

He tried to remember he was here to do a job. Getting to see B.J. again was incidental.

Yeah, just keep telling yourself that.

He scrubbed and walked into the OR, his eyes peeled for B.J. And two tables over, there he was. Tall, bright, and handsome. Hawk gave a wave.

"Hawkeye, how nice of you to visit our little corner of the world!" He sounded genuinely happy. Hawkeye felt his heart soar. "If this shift ever ends, I'll buy you a drink across the street. We don't have an O club, but we do have a neighborhood bar over yonder. The lighting's bad, but the drinks are dreadful."

Hawkeye laughed. "You're on."

The OR session did finally end, 12 hours after Hawkeye arrived. He headed to the scrub room, where B.J. was peeling off his whites. Hawk came up behind him and untied his mask for him. Anything, anything to make contact.

"Hey thanks," came the soft, exhausted voice. B.J. turned to face him and then turned on that brilliant smile. "It's so great to see you, Hawkeye. Who would have thought this was how we'd meet again?"

They were standing close…very close. Hawkeye was tired but not quite out of his mind. Not quite. What he wanted to do more than anything in the world was lean in just a few inches and capture that perfect mouth in a kiss. He looked at the tantalizing lips and he was aware his heart was racing. Instead of giving in to the temptation, he forced his eyes up to B.J.'s, hoping he wasn't being painfully obvious.

"When you guys need a hand, I'm only too happy to help," he said, barely registering his own words.

"Right neighborly of ya," breathed B.J., who was doing some intense staring of his own. There was definitely something happening here, Hawkeye realized. They hadn't moved away from each other, even though they had no earthly reason to be standing practically right up against each other. They weren't touching, but Hawkeye could feel the friction between them anyway. For some reason—he was tired, he was nearly intoxicated from standing this close to B.J. after months of only dreaming about him, whatever the reason—he reached out and ran a hand through B.J.'s tousled hair. B.J. said something softly that might have been "not here" or "come here," or maybe neither one—Hawkeye honestly didn't know—and Lord only knows what might have happened next if the C.O. hadn't walked into the room.

"Pierce," Robertson said as Hawk and B.J. took a few steps away from each other. "Can't thank you enough for coming to help us for the next few days. We're expecting another wave of casualties about as nasty as the one we just finished. Hopefully we have a few hours before that hits us. Get some rest, you're going to need it."

Not what Hawkeye wanted to hear, but he nodded his head as the Colonel left. The spell between him and B.J. had been broken. They pulled off the rest of their whites.

"Rain check on that drink?" Hawkeye asked finally.

"Absolutely. We should get some rest, like the Colonel said."

"They've put me up in the VIP tent," he said evenly, curious what B.J.'s reaction would be.

"Oh, no kidding? Could've bunked with us. Well hell, I'm sure you'll be a lot more comfortable in there." B.J. began to head out and Hawkeye followed him. He was dead on his feet, but not willing to say goodnight to B.J. yet. Didn't seem fair, finally getting to see him, only to be overworked and exhausted and practically unable to hold up his half of a conversation.

They got to the VIP tent and Hawkeye gestured inside. "Too tired to come in for a little while?" He tried to sound casual; he was feeling anything but.

B.J. hesitated, then said, "Nah. Not too tired."

They went inside and Hawkeye automatically reached for a still that was not there. Damn, I really need something to do with my hands, and here I am, without a still to occupy myself. Instead, he sat on the bed as B.J. took the nearby chair.

"God, it's so good to see you, Beej." The nickname fell out of his mouth before he even realized he'd invented it. It just seemed right. "The letters…they're great, but they're not enough. You know what I mean?"

B.J. nodded. "I know."

"I think about you a lot. Even when I'm not writing you, I'm thinking about you," Hawkeye went on, not sure why he was going down this particular road. He was tired, and his mouth was going to run without any kind of assistance from his brain.

"Me too. About you." B.J. sounded shy. He looked shy.

Hawkeye only stared, not capable of tearing his eyes away. The mood in the room had shifted. It no longer felt like two best friends seeing each other after a few months of being apart. The vibe had turned…sexual. Hawkeye was sure of it. He leaned forward just a little. "You're beautiful, anybody ever tell you that?"

"My mom, I guess." B.J. shrugged and gave a smirk. A brief silence filled the room. Then, quietly: "Am I crazy to be in here with you?"

Hawk reached out and put a hand on his knee. "I'm not going to lie, I want something to happen here. But if you're not comfortable, if you're not sure, then nothing will happen. It's entirely up to you."

"But no pressure or anything," B.J. laughed, and Hawkeye joined in.

"Seriously, no pressure. I would understand if you got up and walked out of here right now."

B.J. stood then, and for one heart-stopping moment, Hawkeye thought he was going to do just that: leave. But instead he moved to the bed and sat down next to Hawk. "I can't even imagine walking out of here right now," he said softly, putting a hand high on Hawk's thigh. "Can't even imagine sleeping right now, either. Can you?"

"No," he replied, his breath catching in his throat. He leaned toward B.J. slowly. Didn't want to scare him off. This was probably a huge step for a married man. It wasn't exactly a small step for Hawkeye; for the first time in a very long time, he was with someone he had actually fallen in love with, and the stakes were enormous.

They moved together for the kiss, and when their mouths met, sparks flew. At least they did for Hawkeye. Based on the moan he heard from B.J., he figured it was pretty good on the other side as well. Hawkeye opened his mouth and felt a tentative tongue touch his own. Damn, feels so good. He reached up and put a hand on the back of B.J.'s head and drank in the kiss greedily.

Hawkeye gently pushed B.J. backward onto the bed as their kissing turned more passionate. He wanted desperately to start peeling off clothing, but forced himself to move slowly. "Beej," he said, liking this new name, and liking what his friend was doing right now, which was running a hand underneath his shirt, up and down his back.

Soon—very soon—the kissing and touching just wasn't enough. Hawkeye pulled at B.J.'s shirt, frustrated that he was going to have to take his mouth off the other man's in order to get the shirt off, but needing to get at his flesh. He yanked it over B.J.'s head and then dove back in for more kisses, but he could feel tension now in his partner's body. He could feel hesitation.

"Relax," he whispered, trying to soothe, though his own body was crackling with sexual need. "Just relax."

But his words weren't having any effect. The tension remained. After a moment, B.J. put a hand on Hawkeye's chest, stopping him. "Shit," he muttered, his eyes closed.

Hawkeye, breathing hard and very keyed up, was confused. Still poised above B.J. but respecting his wishes to back off, he said, "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Hawk. I can't. I thought I could but I can't." He sighed, looking miserable. "I'm sorry."

Hawkeye nodded, disappointed but understanding. When it came to B.J., he seemed to have patience he never knew he possessed. Moving to lie down next to him, he said, "It's all right. Don't worry about it." He took hold of B.J.'s hand. "My motor's revving with no place to go, but I'll live."

They lay there like that for a few minutes, side by side, their breathing slowing. Eventually B.J. put an arm over Hawkeye's chest and said, "I'd still like to stay here tonight. Is that OK?"

Hawkeye smiled at him. "That's very OK." They snuggled together on the bed. It wasn't sex but it was pretty damn good anyway. Amazingly, Hawkeye started to feel his exhaustion pull him toward sleep in a matter of seconds. "Good night, Beej," he mumbled as he began to drift.

"G'night, Hawkeye."

The 8063rd's new surgeon arrived a day early, and Hawkeye was free to go once he finished his OR shift. He stood at the jeep with B.J., feeling a little awkward and dismayed at having to say goodbye to him again.

"Hawk, I screwed up," B.J. tried to apologize again, but Hawkeye stopped him.

"No you didn't," he said reassuringly. "When it's right, we'll both know it."

B.J. drew him into an embrace and said, "Let's try to meet up in Seoul soon, OK?"

"Absolutely," Hawkeye agreed, his eyes closed to memorize this hug. He loved the feeling of B.J. in his arms. Like so many things about this man, it felt right.

They reluctantly parted and Hawkeye got into the jeep. "Bye, Beej. Seoul—soon."

B.J. raised a hand and Hawkeye drove away, shaking his head a little to fight off tears.