In the morning, nothing much was resolved and we were still in deep water. First, there was a call from Dad. He was at the General Store with Dolly. The two of them were shopping for some supplies for the cabin. He decided that now was as good as ever to reach us and see if the house didn't burn down. With Charles and BJ around, he was afraid that one of more of us got into a clash and use everything in our power to fight.

"How did the dispute go?" I asked him casually.

"What?" Dad was confused for a moment, then recovered himself. "Oh, that! It was fine. Just a property line."

"Uh-huh. I see." I was skeptical. Immediately, I changed the topic. "So, you didn't tell me you talked with Hawkeye about our plans."

"There was only so much I could keep away from him," Dad admitted. He sounded resigned. "He wondered why I kept making telephone calls and going to Portland."

"He was not mad at us? He didn't seem so when I talked with him."

"Actually, no. He was relieved. He didn't believe you'd use your connections and I'd nag at a few of mine. But it worked. The town is excited. All we're waiting on is a spot to build."

Afterward, we made some small talk about the new clinic and other things. Then, Hawkeye got antsy and took the telephone from me before I said goodbye to Dad. He spoke with glee to Dad about many things, most of them mundane. Dad asked him about the children. Hawkeye claimed they were fine and getting into trouble without our instigation.

He was right. Shannon was the ringleader of all four of them. Her Abee was the planner and finetuned what her sister thought out. It was the twins that carried out these plans. While Hawkeye was chatting to Dad, this was already in motion. Shannon had told Patrick and Danielle that she wanted the cookies I baked the night before. Annabeth drew out the scheme and off the twins went. Charles was the only obstacle at the moment, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

I limped over and grabbed Patrick and Danielle before Charles tripped over them. I placed them down in the playpen in the living room. They were not happy with me, especially since they normally had free rein across the house and outside. Shannon pouted and Annabeth drew back. They knew I'd put them in timeout too if they put another toe out.

Hawkeye finished the conversation and hung up. Just as he did, it rang again. He answered and was surprised to hear Margaret on the other line. She was rambling about something and sobbing loud enough that we heard her across the room. Hawkeye couldn't understand it either and tried calming down her. He gave up and hung up when it sounded like she dropped the line. He thought about making another call, but stopped himself. He turned to me.

"Can you contact Greg and ask him something?" he inquired.

"Sure," I replied. "What am I asking him?"

"Ask him what happened to Jack Scully," Hawkeye said. "Margaret mentioned that she found out that he died in Korea."

I almost fainted hearing those words. Jack Sully, dead? It was impossible. He had a sound head on his shoulders and was always able to get out of trouble. Margaret had to be mistaken.

Gulping, I took over. "I'll see what I can do."

After breakfast, the children went to play on the front porch. While I watched them through the window, I called Greg. It took an hour to get an operator in England. It took another hour to find Greg. When someone answered at his flat (I think it was his maid), I was told that Greg was out and about. I informed her this was important and to get him pronto.

"I will bring Mr. Keller back," she promised.

It took some time. Hawkeye and BJ paced beside me. Charles was calmer. He hardly paid Scully any attention to begin with and didn't care. As he gasped through the finance section, the fate of a man hung in the balance. After visiting us the last time (and most of the time spent with Margaret and a bottle of wine anyway), we never heard from Scully again. We assumed he didn't have the ability to visit.

"Jeanie, you have some answers for me?" Greg asked when he finally picked up.

"I have a deal," I said without thinking. "We give you what you want. You tell me about Jack Scully."

"What? No!" Hawkeye burst out.

I covered the mouthpiece. "Trust me," I said. "This plays with your plans well." I removed my hand. "What did you need to know about Henry Blake?"

"What kind of people did he consort with?" Greg inquired. It sounded like he flipped some pages in the background. "Anybody on the attorney general's list?"

"No," I confirmed confidentially. "Honestly, you can check the country club in Bloomington. It's called Pretty Illusions. He and Lorraine Blake frequented it."

"Did he consort with the enemy? I mean, in Korea?"

"If they came into the camp, we had to treat them. They were always done in the order they were received."

"Did he talk to any of them?"

"Henry? I don't think he understood a damned word they said, even if he tried. He hardly could stand in Pretty Illusions."

"What about at home? I know you lived next door to him at one point."

I swallowed a lump in my throat. "Subversives were something Henry kept away from. He wouldn't know a Commie, even if one was painted red. Pretty Illusions is full of people like him. They are loyal to this country."

"You're telling me he's a drunken fool?" Greg was skeptical. "I know he was smarter than the average person. I assumed you all were joking."

"His wife controlled him," I confirmed truthfully. "In Korea, Radar did. I thought you knew this?"

"I waved it away as all rumors from Flagg." Greg laughed. "Ok. Put Hawkeye on."

Suddenly, everyone knew what I was doing. Hawkeye winked at me and greeted Greg enthusiastically. The vague questioning repeated with Love. Then, he passed the telephone to BJ. When he was done, Charles was next. Remington didn't have much to say other than Greg was sniffing up the wrong tree and to stuff it.

Finally, Greg asked for me again. "I'll check into what you want," he promised. "You stick around. Besides, I am almost done with our debt."

"I think you've done enough," I told him. "I just saved your life."

"Many times," he reminded me. "You also covered for me when Flagg could have had me in a sling. You also found some things we didn't see. You tamed Falk and got him to not kill anyone."

"Anybody could have that done," I protested. "I did my job. I went to Korea. I came home."

Greg immediately changed the subject. "Look, what's the name again? Jack Scully? I'll get back to you. You just enjoy your happy little life and I'll plan on coming to the States to play some poker later."

After he hung up, things seemed brighter concerning making Henry Blake out to be a total imbecile. However, we still had a chore to do. It all depended on Trapper and a road trip to the west. We just bought some time for Lorraine and to do our switch. Greg will be too busy checking into Scully that he might put Henry off to one side. Nothing specific was asked yet.

I didn't realize I held my breath until I exhaled. Everyone peered at me, inquiring about our next directions. I just painted a picture of lunacy with Henry. While very much the truth, we still had to keep up appearances. The Army had to ensure it was official.

"Well, that went splendidly," Hawkeye said sarcastically.

"It's ambiguous enough to keep everyone out of trouble for now," I reassured them. "Greg wouldn't let us sink. We're treading water. The Coast Guard will be around shortly."

"I hope you're right," BJ replied. "But we still have the issue with the records."

"Lady and gentlemen, I believe you have a way," Charles interjected. "This provincial seaside shack has bored me. Since this chap is in merry Boston, why don't we all down? I am sure the child's teacher will understand a…dire family emergency?"

"We get to stay with you again?" Hawkeye pretended to be an excited child. "Oh, boy!"

"Really now, Charles?" BJ wrapped his arm around the former Major Ego's shoulders. "You're too kind!"

Charles mumbled something about the last visit. He didn't need to remind us. We had been invited to his sister Honoria's wedding a few years ago. This time, she married someone the family approved of (some Boston politician that paid the senator who helped the senior Winchester, I believe). Everyone came and we literally crashed in such a way that even the blood blues had their mouths hanging.

Honoria was a sweetheart throughout the whole event and instigated the whole incident. She was as fun as Charles when he was drunk too, from lampshade hats to asking the butler to marry her to her husband instead of a priest. Her mother had to escort her to her rooms, mumbling all the way that she was acting inappropriately. To be honest, it was exhilarating and quite the experience.

"What was that?" Hawkeye leaned closer to Charles, his hand behind his ear. "I couldn't hear you."

"I said I can find a nanny for your little demons," Charles announced louder. "At least she can keep order in a small room."

Hawkeye whooped. BJ clapped his hands and called the kids for a road trip. I tried keep order, but I couldn't through my laughter. Despite the dark cloud hanging over our heads about Scully, there was something to look forward to. A road trip to Boston was a change of scenery. It was spontaneous and zany. It was also totally up our alley and the adventure we required to begin the healing in my marriage to Hawkeye.

"Let me call a driver," Charles said when there was a moment of silence for him to speak. "We are not squeezing into that box you call a vehicle."

"Does that mean I can ride with you?" BJ begged. "Please, please, please?" He was on his knees, hands folded like his prayer and waving back and forth.

The former Major Ego relented. "Just as long as those brats don't sit with us," he stipulated. "I prefer to be at peace."

We went to work immediately. When the travel plans had been vaguely sketched out and Shannon had been called out of school for two days, we planned out how we were reaching Trapper. Charles was not going to be able to abscond with his father's driver until tomorrow afternoon, when he returned from his tryst with the senior maid. Hawkeye and I will be following the vehicle to Boston and we'll settle in the Winchester home base (Charles reassured us that his parents were in France at the moment). From there, we will be formulating how we were going to recruit Trapper. It seemed more complicated than we initially thought.

"Hawk, I still don't know." BJ was the only one who conveyed his doubts again. "Last time we saw Trapper, he was drunk most of the time. He couldn't form a single sentence. He couldn't even dress himself. How do you expect him to drive out there and erase a few numbers?"

"Trapper will never fail me," Hawkeye replied stoutly again. "He had my back. I have his. He won't waste that."

~00~

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hawkeye was cynical. "You don't have to. The kids will be safe with me driving. They don't need to see old ladies hit."

"No, I want to do this," I insisted, reaching for the keys. "You need to rest."

We were in northern Massachusetts, on a stop amongst the famous Amesbury residential elite. It had been two and a half hours since we left Crabapple Cove and we were already tired of the foolishness and the snobbery. We had been up all night with the children, who were excited about going to Boston. Hawkeye was exhausted when he flew us out of the driveway and onto the open roads behind Charles' driver. By the time we reached our rest stop, he was falling asleep at the wheel.

I too was enthusiastic. I could not sleep either. Going to Boston was always a thrilling experience. Knowing that we still had the same magic was enough. Hawkeye and I were already back to our usual tricks and this pleased us. Nothing was going to stop us, not even the government, who was still interested in destroying everyone's lives. Henry Blake had to be saved. It was our duty to honor him.

Hawkeye was hesitant in handing over the keys. He wasn't told about my driving lessons with TC. He only recalled that I was a horrible driver. Besides this assumption, I wasn't steady and couldn't concentrate enough. We always had a running gag every time I left the camp. Hawkeye would joke about focusing more on his hand or imagining old ladies at the side of the road. This was the same.

"I won't shut the window blinds," he replied, referring to his eyes. "It's sunny outside."

"And you're soon drawing those curtains," I said. I darted for the keys and got them out of his hands. "Get in the car. I've got this."

I don't think Hawkeye had the strength to argue. When I pushed him into the car, he almost fell on top of the twins. He couldn't even close the door himself. I had to squeeze him in. I crawled into my side and started the engine. I took a deep breath. I had to envision that I was not in Bloomington, Illinois. I was in Amesbury, Massachusetts. To be precise, I was sitting in the driveway of one of the Winchester's many friends.

After reassuring the approaching butler that I was all set, I put the Packard in neutral. I waited until Charles' driver drove down the road a little. Then, I put the car in reverse and slowly inched out of the driveway. When the coast was clear, I slid the Packard into first gear and was upshifting in seconds. I almost got too close to the next car and slowed down.

Despite my healing ankle (it ached using the clutch), it all seemed too easy. I was also enjoying it too much. As the beautiful houses rolled past us and Hawkeye's snoring grew louder, I concentrated on the dirt road that soon transformed to solid pavement. Then, as soon as we passed the mill factory (which I thought Charles wouldn't be caught dead near), we turned onto another muddy pathway. We tossed left and right for a few minutes before it evened out.

All the while, my grip on the steering wheel was tight. This was not what TC taught me. We cheated and took some easy paved roads. I drove over dry and wet sand. This was new to me.

My eyes never left their target though. I tried the best I could to remember to shift at the right time and to not stall the car. By the time we reached Boston though, I was exhausted from the efforts. Hawkeye was still asleep. The twins were eying the busy streets eagerly. Annabeth and Shannon jumped up and down in their seats, yelling and pointing at everything.

Soon, we reached the Winchester residence. The black iron gates were opened soon after arrival. Sluggishly, we rode up the winding driveway. Shannon and Annabeth pointed out the many trees and the ponds and fountains. While they yelled at each other their astonishment, I hoped to hell that I didn't hit the vehicle in front of me. I could not work the Packard and listen to the children at the same time and had to yell at them all to shut up.

I was saved when one of the valets stopped us before the first set of the steps that led to the mansion. He offered to take over while we enjoyed the picturesque scenery and amble inside. Tea and other delights were being served in the Sun Room. There was a mention about Honoria, but Charles waved it away.

"That'll be all, Jenkins," he said kindly. "Thank you."

Jenkins was the one who was taking the Packard. He blushed and nodded his head. He said nothing about the condition of the Packard nor that Hawkeye was still asleep in the passenger seat. He disappeared up the road, in another direction. This left me with the rowdy little ones and Charles and BJ.

"Now what?" BJ asked.

"You can let the brats go," Charles told me. "They are quite safe."

I was hesitant, but I knew that I had to release the children. Shannon was inching to race with Annabeth and the twins were squirming in my arms. With a sigh, I cut them loose. Quickly, they were off. Charles called over a couple of the garden keepers, to retain an eye out on them, and guided us to this Sun Room. BJ offered his arm to me, but I declined. I was walking just fine.

We did not talk when we approached the gothic structure. Charles opened the glass siding door and allowed us into the open space, only protected by glass all around. When we entered, some of the maids inside saw us and gasped. Suddenly, they were in a hurry to make us comfortable. Charles waved them away.

"I can serve our guests," he reassured them gently. "Please, go about your business."

I was struck by how much Charles changed. When the war ended, he was humbled and quiet. In the following years, he grew bolder and drew some of his old self back. However, he never played any music. He refused to have it echo anywhere. Even when some of us wanted to turn on the radio or a record, he inched away. He was horrified by its magnitude. Its power could not sway him.

When I sat down on the plush cushion across from Major Ego, the weight of the recent events felt heavier. Too much had happened in the past few days. I went from having guests and a sinking marriage to arguing and finding love again. Then, we had Dad running off on us, Greg asking too many questions and the possibility of Scully being dead. Now, we're all in Boston on some family emergency and finding material comfort in Charles' family home.

What a farce!

"Where does Trapper live?" BJ asked me when he found a seat next to me.

"By the Public Gardens," I recalled. "It's near the center of the city."

"Well, a communal place is as good as any to stay sober," BJ offered hopefully.

"Remember, you can attract more with honey than with vinegar," Charles reminded us.

I was surprised to hear a Sherman Potter phrase out of Charles, but kept my counsel. Regardless, I went on. "While that is very much true, what I know Trapper needed is a slap to the face. There is only one way."

"You're not going solo, are you?" BJ inquired.

"No," I reassured him. "We'll all come. I think it'll do him some good."

BJ thought about what I said for a moment and soon realized my nefarious plans involved the older girls and the twins. He lifted a finger to say something, but stopped himself. He knew as well as I did that the children were not supposed to be weapons. However, I was going to use my arsenal to manipulate Trapper to my will. This might be the only way.

A butler came to Charles and whispered in his ear. It was obvious that he was afraid of the reaction of his master. He was startled to hear Charles break out in laughter. The man bowed and backed away, muttering something about the audacity of people. It made BJ and I curious and question Charles.

Remington could wipe the smirk on his face. "It appears that Hawkeye has had an accident."

I was upset and stood up. "He could be hurt, Charles! We have to get him."

"That isn't a laughing matter!" BJ added, alarmed.

"Now, now, Lothario is in good shape," Charles told us with a chuckle. "It seems that the door to your…box…opened on its own while Hawkeye was still sleeping. He slipped out of the car while Jenkins was driving and rolled into a dried pond."

I felt my heart beat slower. It was a relief! Hawkeye was safe. A former watering hole could not stop him from anything. Unless…

"I would hope he's on his way here to get changed," BJ said.

"Oh, no," Charles replied. "Somehow, his rear got stuck in the bottom and the only thing showing is his head, torso and legs. He does need to be pulled out, my dear Beej. If he keeps moving, he will eventually sink. Father equipped our home very well, to keep the burglars at bay."

"Oh, no," I moaned. "You don't mean to say –"

"Quicksand," Charles finished for me. "I hope Hawkeye can be still for a few minutes."

To momoflanda: I apologize for the long wait. Thank you for being patient while I am running overtime for work. Stay safe!
To Mistress Twist: This should be the 6th chapter you're on. Thank you for handling my lunacy. It's been a crazy week. Stay safe!