The DC-7 landed at Lambert-St. Louis Municipal Airport for fuel, and to pick up a few scraggly passengers. BJ wasn't sure of the exact time because he was so cautious about holding his suitcase in his lap that he didn't want to move his wrist to see his watch face. As the plane taxied to the gate it was assigned, BJ was already becoming aware of the checklists the flight crew had to go through and was convinced that now they landed the checklist was a reversal of what they did to take off.

Finally the propellers finished spinning and the plane came to a stop. The Captain spun his body again and told BJ that they had to stay here for an hour so if BJ wanted to stretch his legs in the terminal, that was a good idea.

BJ did and after using the nearest restroom, he found a little shop which sold post cards. BJ picked one out that featured the airport he was at and wrote, "Beautiful airport you got here" and dropped it in a mailbox with an address for Hannibal. It didn't feel right to be in the same state as Colonel Potter and not mention it. BJ smiled as he had made sure to put the current time and was sure the Colonel would want to know what the heck he was doing there at that time of night.

Happy with himself, BJ grabbed a snack and hopped back on the plane, knocked on the doorway to the cockpit before entering and sat back down. He considered not getting the snack but the flight crew were drinking coffee and sharing cookies so he didn't think it would be taboo to eat in the cockpit.

Hours later the same plane landed at Boston and BJ repeated the same act with a post card from the Boston airport. Only this time the card read, "I know where you live, Charles" and was addressed to Dr. Winchester of Boston General Hospital.

From Boston, BJ hopped on a much older plane for his final destination of Portland-Westbrook Municipal Airport. On that plane, he sat smashed in between two overweight older ladies who found BJ to be absolutely charming. He played along with their attention as his stomach dropped. Was he doing the right thing by going to Hawkeye? He remembered the terrible day he visited Hawkeye in the Tokyo Hospital and his heart sank. But still, something in him made him press on. After all, he had promised Hawk that they would see each other again.

At 9am, Sidney came back to the hospital, case files in hand. He checked in with Dr. Whitley before making his way to Hawkeye's room. There he found Hawkeye studying his greying whiskers in the mirror.

Hawkeye hoped that Sidney wasn't told about his earlier interaction with the poor male nurse who came by to give Hawkeye his medicine in a small paper cup. A madman had invaded Hawk's body and tossed the small cup at the nurse and unleashed a string of words, most of which began with "F" and weren't suitable for young ears. Hawkeye had had experience with his brain defying him, but he couldn't decide why it happened. That concerned him. Also, he didn't want to tell Sidney for fear it meant that there was more to Hawkeye's problems than just him drinking too much.

Presently, Hawkeye studied the grey that peaked out of his head and on his chin. He would shave if he was allowed anything sharp. Sidney asked from the doorway, "How'd you sleep?"

Hawkeye looked to him. "Better than I usually do. I have the sedatives to thank for that."

Without missing a beat Sidney answered, "I hear you need those sedatives for more than just sleeping."

Hawkeye frowned. "Oh, you heard."

Sidney decided it was necessary to approach Hawkeye with a serious tone and talk to him as a psychiatrist rather than as a friend. Hawkeye was in a fragile state of mind that could be damaging to himself or others. "Dr. Whitley is trying to decide how to handle the situation. When you're a doctor in a place like this, you can't ignore a patient who acts aggressive. That can be dangerous."

Hawkeye retreated to his bed and sat on the side of it, with his back to Sidney. Hawkeye, like all doctors, had to intern in a mental ward for a month of his residency. Between that stint of his internship and the weeks he spent in the Tokyo Hospital, Hawkeye could not bare to play off the seriousness of what happened. Hawkeye spoke, but with a much grittier tone of voice than he wished. "I honestly don't know why I threw that. I asked a question and next thing I knew, I threw the thing."

Sidney crossed his arms and placed himself in Hawkeye's field of vision. "What was the question?"

Now Hawkeye looked up at Sidney. His answer was acid in delivery. "A stupid question. Why are you even here?"

Sidney didn't say anything and instead held Hawkeye's gaze. Mood swings were not a normal outcome of withdrawal and so Sidney had to wonder if something happened during the night to set him off.

Sidney walked away.

A few minutes later, Doctors Whitley and Freedman decided that there was definitely more going on with their patient than classic alcohol withdrawal and detoxification. The two were very concerned that whatever it is, is a serious issue that can threaten Pierce's chances of going back to a normal life, and more importantly, threaten his chances of resuming his career as a doctor.

At about noon in Boston, Charles was de-gowning after an emergency surgery that took three hours and was performed on a teenager who, whilst playing hookie from 11th grade, had been hit head on by a delivery truck. The young man would live, but it was unlikely he would walk again. Charles found himself thinking of the hard life the kid will live from now on and made a conscious effort to stop: he was only the kid's surgeon, he had done his part.

In the room around him were a group of his fellow surgeons. All but two were around before Charles went to war and all of them knew to leave Charles alone. As such, Charles kept to himself while they bantered back and forth and traded jibes.

That was until a loud sound shook the building. It was a series of far away explosions of some sort and sent Charles to the floor with his eyes closed and his hands behind his neck to protect himself. He laid there with his stomach to the floor for a solid ten seconds before he was aware that it was not a shelling, that he wasn't in Korea, he was in Boston, and that all eyes were now on him.

Charles gathered himself and got off the ground, going to great lengths not to meet eye contact with anyone. Charles left the room with his head held high and went into an empty recovery room and stayed there until his heartbeat slowed to a healthy pace. When that finally occurred twenty minutes later, he left the room and headed to the nurse's station to pick up his patients' charts. Besides the boy, there were two patients in critical condition who required Charles' attention and he was going to give him his fullest.

As he walked, he felt all eyes on him and saw a group of nurses were gathered in a herd around the desk. They conspicuously went quiet as he approached and he knew every ounce of conversation among the staff on the ward was about him.

He ignored all of this and did his job.