"Hi, I was wondering if you could do me a favor." Margaret nervously approached a young boy at the desk. He nodded absentmindedly waiting for her to continue.

"My fiancé is upstairs; do you think you could give him a note for me?"

"Sure thing," the boy's curiosity was piqued and he scooted a pad of paper towards her and handed her a pen. Margaret hurriedly scribbled out a note and began to reread it. She bit her lip and turned the pad around, facing the young man.

"Can you read this?" she asked. The man looked at her curiously and began to read the note aloud. He made it to the third word before he began squinting at the letters.

"Sorry Ma'm, I can't read your writing."

Margaret rolled her eyes in annoyance of both having to rewrite the note, and the boy calling her Ma'm. She carefully copied the note and then stuffed the first one into her purse.

"Here," she said, handing the boy the note. "I can't really remember our room number. Do you think you could look that up for me?"

"Of course, what name is the room booked under?"

"Welling, Jeremy Welling."

The boy's head jerked up in surprise. "You're Mr. Welling's fiancée?"

Margaret nodded and the young man jumped up nervously. "Oh gee, Ma'm, they've been looking everywhere for you."

Margaret smiled slightly; the boy's nervous excitement reminded Margaret so much of a corporal she hardly remembered.

"Just wait until I tell them I've found you," he mumbled to himself. "Maybe they'll promote me…or maybe…" The boy began to walk off and Margaret quickly grabbed his arm.

"Just a minute," she said sternly. "Read the note I gave you." The boy looked down at the piece of paper in his hand and his eyes widened.

"Oh," he muttered disappointedly.

Margaret smiled consolingly and shrugged. "I need to leave Maine as quickly as possible, and I don't want anyone following me. Do you think you can give this to Mr. Welling in about two hours?

The young man nodded and Margaret turned to leave, but a nagging question made her pause.

"How long are you going to be here?"

"I'm here until late tonight Ma'm"

"Okay, give me the number of the hotel and I'll call you later to ask how he reacted." Margaret began to chew her bottom lip nervously. "Is that alright?"

"Of course," he scribbled down the number and Margaret stuffed into her purse.

"Thank you so much." She said sincerely, whishing she had a way to thank the young man, she didn't have any money with her.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked. The boy eyed her somewhat suspiciously.

"I have a fiancé." He replied curtly.

"Have you given her a ring?"

He stiffened considerably, and squared his shoulders. "Not quite yet," he replied curtly.

Margaret rolled her eyes, men could act so idiotic. "Give her this," Margaret offered, slipping off her engagement ring and laying it on the desk. "Or just cash it in and pick out something she'd like better."

The young man stared at her in speechless delight. Margaret waved away his attempted gratitude and quickly walked out of the hotel and climbed into a waiting taxi.

Hawkeye pulled himself into his car and leaned back in the seat. He felt exhausted. With the combination of the party, the booze, Margaret, and the little girl, Hawkeye didn't think his day could get any worse. He had just finished talking to Susan's parents. That was the thing he hated most about his job. A child dying was horrible, but in his mind having to tell their parents far outweighed anything else.

Hawkeye sat up and started his car, driving slowly towards a small diner down the street. He hurried inside as small snowflakes began to fall. Hawkeye mumbled a curse over the freezing whether and seated himself at a small booth and ordered a cup of coffee.

As he sat by the frosted window, his eyes traveled towards the pay phone. He wondered what Margaret was doing by this time. He shook his head, trying to get her off his mind. Wondering about her wasn't going to do anything.

After four cups coffee, Hawkeye finally stood up and walked across the diner to the phone.

"Operator, connect me to that ritzy hotel on Fifth St and Weston." He paused and sighed. "Yeah, that's the one."

A boy's panicked voice came over the line. "Hello, you've reached…"

"Is Jeremy Welling still there?" Hawkeye asked impatiently.

The boy groaned slightly. "I keep telling you people that he went home hours ago."

Hawkeye frowned, wondering what the kid was talking about. "Oh I see, did Miss Houlihan leave with him?"

The boy gave an exasperated sigh. "If she was with him do you think he would have left?"

Hawkeye raised his eyebrows at the boy's aggravated tone. What was the matter with the kid?

"Well are you certain she isn't there, I really need to talk with her." The boy replied that he had seen her leave. "Well where did she go? I need to talk with her!"

The boy sighed wearily. "Look sir, she left around noon. She gave me a note and told me to give it to Mr. Welling. That's all I know."

Hawkeye sighed unhappily and hung up the phone.