He was exhausted beyond belief when he walked into his home. All he wanted to do was lie in his bed and sleep for hours. God knew he deserved it. He didn't even care that his scrubs were covered in blood or that he'd be much more comfortable after a hot shower and a change into his pajamas. And he was elated that he had the next seventy two hours off. He intended to make the most of them.

But he'd barely sat his medical bag on the kitchen counter when the phone rang. He cursed the phone, suddenly hating his job.
He decided to ignore the ringing. That would teach the hospital not to mess with him. Didn't they understand that human beings needed rest? Thankfully the ringing stopped. And the silence was golden.

He searched through his refrigerator for something to eat, but the ringing started up again. It was the hospital, he was certain of it. They'd give him the same story they always gave him. There's no one else available.

The idea of having to go into work after he'd just finished a seventeen hour shift made him so angry that he picked up a nearby glass and hurled it across the kitchen, smiling in satisfaction as it hit the wall and shattered into pieces. That would definitely show them. Angrily he walked over to the phone, but instead of yanking the cord from the wall like he intended, he picked up the receiver.

"Yeah?"

The silence on the other end made his blood bool.

"Look, you've got some nerve calling me at this hour with your damn prank calls! Do you hear me? I just came home from a shift at the hospital that was seventeen hours long! You got that? Seventeen hours! Ah, let me guess, you can't count that high! Well I've got news for you! If you call here again, I'm going to have the call traced! That's right, traced! The police don't look too favorably on prank calls, especially when those calls are to surgeons such as myself! I-."

Finally there was a noise on the other end of the line, but when he listened more intently, he heard whimpering. Even then, he had to strain to hear it.

"What's that?"

"H-Hawkeye… Margaret." The tinny voice said.

Immediately he snapped to attention. "Margaret… Oh God… I'm sorry about that. I thought…" He was so happy to hear a familiar voice, that he felt like dancing around the kitchen. "Margaret! How are you? It's so good to hear from you! I've missed you so-."

His heart ached when he heard the unmistakable sound of sobbing. Concerned he lowered himself into a chair.

"Margaret, honey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I-."

"Look, whatever it is, we'll get through it. We always have. Remember our days in Korea? Who in the hell could forget that hell, right? Like I always say, 'War is war and hell is hell and between the two hell is a lot worse.'"

But his attempt at humor went unnoticed, concerning him even more. "Margret what's wrong? Are you sick? Hurt?"

"I-I can't breathe... I don't feel well…"

Damn, why did Crabapple Cove, Maine and Denver, Colorado have to be so far away from each other?

"Margaret, honey, just relax, all right? Call the hospital if you have to. Tell them that you need an ambulance."

"I-I can't…"

"All right. I'll do it. What's the number?"

"I… Oh God…"

"Just relax and tell me what's happening. I'm a doctor and I'll talk you through it."

Geez, what was wrong with him, making jokes when something was clearly wrong?

"F-Frank…"

Hawkeye rolled his eyes. He was sure their affair was long over, but it was apparent that it wasn't. "What has old Ferret Face done now? Did he hurt you? Because if he did, I swear to God, I'll.."

"F-Frank's dead!"