A/N: Yes, boys and girls, I still exist. I am still living on this planet, I'm just lousy at updating. I feel horrible for taking so long! So I apologize for the really really really really long delay as does my dear beta Mirandabelle, whom I thank immensely for reviewing this for me. THANKS MIRANDABELLE, YOU'RE THE BEST! Between both of our computer problems, random schoolwork and going back and forth with this chapter ('tis a long one, folks, hope you're up to it) it's taken a while, I know and on behalf of Mirandabelle and myself, we are both really really really really. . . *trails off on a 'really' tangent*. . . sorry

Huge amounts of thanks go out to you reviewers. Your honest reviews mean a lot to me, so thanks! Especially to TakenHawkeye and OnlyHotlips4Hawkeye. Your reviews made my day! Actually, all of them do. And of course to my loyal followers who have been with me since the beginning. You know, I think I'll just go back to thanking everybody, again . . . Thanks for reading and reviewing! Well, enjoy the chapter and I'll see you again in two months. . . just kidding.

-AEM

*Disclaimer: Let's see, what to disclaim today . . . well, as we all are aware, I have no claims whatsoever to anything M*A*S*H, but there are random people that were invented off the top of my head for random reasons and they're mine even though you won't see them anywhere else in the story, I doubt*
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Hannibal, Missouri

Monday, April 25, 1956

10:00AM

Colonel Sherman Potter walked into his house. He had just come back from a house call to a family down the street called the Tanners, all of whom were down with the flu. Though he was semi-retired, he still made house calls, but they were never very often, and the simplicity of the cases were a welcome change from what he had seen during the Korean War. He had been right in the middle of it then. In the middle of the work . . . the war . . . the blood. . . he shook himself from his reverie. Thinking about the war always made him depressed and there was no right for him to be depressed since the war had been over for close to three years and all the blood was millions of miles and a lifetime ago.

"Mildred, I'm home!" Colonel Potter called out to his wife and received no answer. "Mildred…" he tried again and still received no answer. Suddenly he noticed a note taped to the lampshade. "Now don't I feel stupid" he muttered to himself. He took the note off the lampshade and read:

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Dear Sherm,

Went to play cards. Will be back for lunch.

Love,

Mildred

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"Well that explains everything. . ."Colonel Potter murmured. He went to put the note down on the hall table and noticed the mail. "Hmmm, came early . . " he noted and started to sort through it. A couple of bills . . . a card from Mildred's sister wishing him happy birthday, though it was 2 months ago ("Forgetful woman that one . . .") . . . a wedding invitation . . . 2 catalogs . . wait, a wedding invitation? Colonel Potter threw down the rest of the mail and opened the invitation. He scanned it and his face grew into a broad grin. "HOT DAMN!" Colonel Potter yelled and ran to the telephone.

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Ottumwa, Iowa

Monday, April 25, 1956

10:00AM

Walter O'Reilly stood up from where he had been feeding the pigs and brushed the dirt off his knees. He took off his glasses and wiped the sweat off his face. He put them back on though when he heard someone calling his name.

"Walt!" yelled his beautiful girlfriend Patty Hayes as she skidded into the barn, shoulder-length brown hair in braids and almost loosing her balance.

"Watch it" smiled Walter, steadying her and lightly kissed her. He had changed a lot in the past few years. It had all started when he had returned home from Korea and found since his Uncle Ed was dead, he had to be the man of the house and couldn't be a kid any longer. It had been easy doing the farm work since he had always done most it because of his Uncle Ed's heart problem, but he hadn't counted on having a bad season in crops his first year. And he hadn't even expected to receive a telephone call from Patty, the girl he had met at the airport in Korea, who lived in Lancaster, Missouri. Soon, they were going on dates, and she was spending weekends at the O'Reilly farm. She had been spending so much time there, it was almost like she lived there. She had been at the O'Reilly's the night her farm burned down killing her parents a year ago and she had been living there ever since. She had her own room and he had his own room. Now, Walter O'Reilly was thinking seriously about asking her a question that if she answered positively, they would be sharing a room.

"Walt?" questioned Patty, looking at her boyfriend.

Walter shook himself out of his daydream. "Oh, sorry,"

"What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing" he answered and asked, "What's the matter? You came in so fast, I thought something bad had happened".

Patty laughed, "Oh, don't worry, nothing bad's happening. The mail came and this looked pretty important, so I decided to bring it out right away," she handed him a white envelope.

He turned the envelope around and noticed his girlfriend's name on this "Patty, you coulda opened this. Your name's on it,"

Patty seated herself on a haystack. "I would have, but I could tell it was from one of your friends from Korea."

"How could you tell?"

"Well," she answered "For one thing, there's a stamp on it. You don't know anyone outside of Ottumwa besides them and if it was one of someone from Ottumwa, they would have dropped it off. Besides, it's addressed to 'Radar'"

Walt turned the letter around again and laughed "Didn't even notice. Yup, Radar O'Reilly, Mrs. O'Reilly and Patty Hayes. Wonder what it is . . . whatever it is it looks important."

"Open it already!" Patty prodded and he laughed

"All right, I will. Wow, I've never got the mail delivered to me. Even when I was a kid, I had to go out to the mailbox to get it . . . all right, all right, I'll open it already!" he laughed, when Patty started to tickle him. He opened the letter neatly. After all, it did look important. He took the information out of it and while he was reading, his mouth formed a large O "HOLY COW!" he yelled. "We gotta go call!" he yelled and grabbed Patty from the haystack and nearly dragged her out of the barn.

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Ft. Wayne, Indiana

Tuesday, April 26, 1956

6:00 PM

"I'm home!" Frank Burns called out to his house.

"Woo-hoo," said his oldest daughter, Jacqueline sarcastically from the stairs. She had hated her father for nearly all of her twenty-one years. Most of that hate had been drilled into her by a young age by her mother. Even if that hadn't happened, she wasn't sure if she would like him. She knew all about his affair during the Korean War, with that Margaret Houlihan lady, and who can respect a father who cheats on a mother? "Tiffany" Jacqueline called up to her younger sister, who was eighteen "Frank's home. Let's give a cheer"

"Woo-hoo" called Tiffany. Jacqueline and Tiffany had been calling their father by his first name for as long as either of them could remember. Jacqueline went upstairs without another word.

"Well, that was harsh," mumbled Frank to himself. Just then, his wife came into the living room. "Louise, where's the mail?" Frank asked.

"The same place that it's been for the last 10 years!" Louise said angrily.

"Well, I haven't been here for all of the last 10 years!" protested Frank.

"Oh that's right, you were in Korea having an affair with some blonde Army brat!"

"Don't you think that's a little unfair?" asked Frank "Margaret wasn't an Army brat. She was a very nice girl. I think you'd like her."

Louise scoffed "Oh yeah. Like I'd like the person you cheated on me with while you weren't here."

"Sometimes I doubt he was here even before he left!" yelled Jacqueline from upstairs.

"He was never here period!" put in Tiffany.

"See what you've done!" yelled Frank "You've turned all our daughters against me!"

Louise glared at him "Not all of them." She left the room.

"That was really mean," said a voice from the chair that was turned around.

Frank looked down and smiled "You see what I have to put up with every day?"

"I see it every day," said the voice and got up from the chair to face her father. Frank found himself face to face with his youngest daughter, Stephanie, who was fifteen. Stephanie was the only one of the Burns girls who actually liked their father. She was never sure why. All she knew was it was mean the way her mother and sisters treated him. She thought her father was an OK person. She knew about the affair and when her mother and sisters were making fun of him behind his back and that subject was brought up, she just said that he had cheated because he missed them and that the affair was a way to miss them less.

"I've never seen why you stay here, Dad." said Stephanie. She was also the only daughter who had ever called him 'Dad'.

"Don't want to pay alimony," Frank answered seriously.

"Well, if you ever decide to leave, take me with you. Everyone hates me here."

"They hate you because you like me, don't they?" asked Frank

"Yep" she answered

"If you ever want to . . .you know . . . start hating me so they'll like you better, I'll understand."

Stephanie stared at her father "I like you better than I like them and if them liking me has a price of me not liking you, I won't pay it. If they can't accept me for my likes and dislikes they don't deserve to like me. Why would I want to have the respect of people who hate and make fun of my favorite person in the world?"

Frank wasn't sure if he had gotten all of that but all he knew was that he wasn't going to lose his last daughter to Louise and he had been complimented. "Well, thank you, Stephanie. It's good to know that there's one person I can count on in this family. You're my favorite daughter."

Stephanie smiled "I love you, Dad." This comment always stopped Frank in surprise. No one had ever told him they loved him. Not even Margaret or his mother. At least he knew how to respond to it

"I love you too, Stephanie." Frank smiled and hugged his daughter, rather awkwardly.

"Got to go to soccer practice," said Stephanie "Bye."

"Do you . . . uh . . . want a ride?"

"Nah. Field's close by," She said and went out the door.

"Bye," Frank smiled and looked around.

"Uh . . . Stephanie . . ." he called

"Yes, Daddy?" she poked her head in the door

"Where's the mail?"

Stephanie laughed "It's on the table with the lamp on it" And she left.

Frank smiled 'Ha! Stole one from Louise' he thought and walked over to the table with the lamp one it. "Bill, Louise . . . bill, Louise . . . what's this?" he mumbled to himself. He picked up a white envelope, read the address and opened it. He looked it over and noticed a very familiar name on it. "Hmm." Frank mumbled to the empty room. "Now this is interesting . . ."

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Toledo, Ohio

Wednesday, April 27, 1956

11:00AM

"Klinger…Klinger…Max…" Max Klinger heard his wife, Soon-Lee call.

"In here, honey" he called without looking up from the wedding dress he was working on and had been working on for the past three days, ever since he had found out about the wedding. Margaret Houlihan's wedding dress. Soon Lee walked into the workroom of Klinger's business, Klinger Collections, which was located over the garage of their house. The fitting and measuring rooms were downstairs and the office where Klinger made the dresses was upstairs.

"How's the dress coming, Max?" Klinger looked up at his wife from where he was threading a needle.

"Pretty good. I wish I had her for a fitting though, but where Margaret Houlihan is concerned, I don't get much of what I want. Gee, it burns me up that we got cut off before I could find out who she was marrying. Lousy phone connection. Oh well." Klinger smiled "How's everyone doing today?"

Soon Lee smiled back "Pretty good"

"That's good" he put his sewing down and got up to kiss his wife.

A few minutes later, she said "Max, the mail!"

"Male what. . . oh the mail! Anything good?" He sat back down and resumed his sewing.

"A few bills. . ."

"OK, I'll deal with them in 20 minutes. . . or 20 years, whichever comes first . . ."

"Max. . ." Soon-Lee said wearily. She loved her husband dearly, but sometimes, especially where bills were concerned, he exasperated her.

"Sorry, honey, what else have we got?"

"Another disappointed letter from Mrs. Henderson. . ."

"I swear," interrupted Klinger, dropping his sewing "I've made that old lady 4 different dresses, exactly how she told me to and all 4 times, she's hated them and then she blames me because she doesn't like how they were made. I followed her instructions to the letter and she doesn't like them. I wish just once she would like the dress. What doesn't she like?"

"The color. Green."

"She told me to make it green!" yelled Klinger "She said. . . and I remember this exactly 'Make it green, Mr. Klinger. If it's black, then it will look like the bridesmaids' dresses. . . . oh, I'd like to give her something that would look like the bridesmaids' dresses. . ."

"Max. . . Max calm down. We don't have to deal with Mrs. Henderson right now" said Soon-Lee.

Klinger looked up at his wife rather embarrassedly "Sorry, honey, I've gotta work on my temper. . ."

Soon-Lee laughed "You keep saying that. That's all the mail except this one piece of house mail"

"No. No house mail till after work. Best way to separate work and home. . . separate the mail. . ."

"It looked important" pressed Soon-Lee "It's from Mill Valley, California…"

Klinger, who was off on a spiel about separating work and home, stopped himself mid-sentence "Mill Valley, that's where BJ lives. I wonder what it is" he grabbed the mail, forgetting everything he had just said about separating work and home and opened it. He scanned the words and yelled out a loud "WOWEE!"

"What is it?" asked Soon-Lee. Klinger had a huge smile on his face "I don't believe this. . . this doesn't explain the phone call, but. . . I gotta use the house phone. . . I'm taking a break. . . " Klinger ran out of the room, with a confused Soon-Lee trailing behind him.

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Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Wednesday, April 27, 1956

4:00 PM

Father John Patrick Francis Mulcahy walked up the aisle of the church. He was coming from coaching boxing and he had the usual headache. It was amazing how 10 boys ranging in age from 8 to 16 could give him such a headache. "Father!" called a boy urgently from behind him.

"Yes?" said Father Mulcahy.

"I've been calling you and calling you and you kept walking!"

"Oh I'm sorry, my son, must be time to change my battery." said the priest of his hearing aid. His hearing aid worked well, except when the battery was failing, then all bets were off. The only thing he regretted was not listening to his old friend, BJ Hunnicut when he had first lost his hearing about not telling anyone. He had lost a lot of his hearing during that time because he hadn't wanted to leave the orphans. If he had known about the hearing aid and that he wouldn't have had to leave them, he would have done both, get the hearing aid and gone back to the orphans.

"What did you need, my son?" he asked the boy and the boy grinned

"Nothing, Father. Father Nestor told me to give this letter to you. It just came in," he handed Father Mulcahy a white envelope

"Thank you, my son" he said and the boy left. Father Mulcahy sat down in a pew to read the letter. A broad grin grew on his face as he finished it. "I knew it, I just knew it!" Father Mulcahy laughed. His laughter came back to him, reverberating off the high walls in the empty church, which made him laugh even harder. *************************************************************************************

Boston, Massachusetts

Wednesday, April 27, 1956

6:00PM

John McIntyre walked into his house and called out "I'm home!" to the seemingly empty house. Suddenly, a loud booming that could easily rival thunder sounded from the stairs and soon, two young girls could be seen from where John was standing near the door.

"Hi Daddy!" they both called out and attacked him in turn for a hug.

"Hi ya Becky!" he addressed the younger girl, a girl of eleven, who had gotten to him first

"Hi Cathy!" he hugged the older one, who was thirteen. He stepped back, straightened up to his regular height of 6 feet and smiled at the woman who had appeared at the door separating the living room, where they were now and the kitchen. "What a welcome, eh, Louise?"

Louise McIntyre smiled and walked towards her husband. "I was thinking the house was going to fall down the way the girls were running down those stairs."

Both girls grinned at this and their father grinned back at them. "And how was your day, girls?"

"Good." they both said at the same time

"I won my softball game!" announced Cathy

"And I was the winner of the spelling bee my class had!" put in Becky, not to be outdone by her sister.

John grinned at his daughters "Good job, both of you."

"Are you done with your homework?" asked Louise and the girls looked away

"No," they answered, again in unison.

"Well, I think you'd better finish it, if you want to do something fun before you go to sleep."

"Yes Mama." they replied, like good little girls.

A broad smirk grew on young Becky's face, the spitting image of her father's "Race you up the stairs, Cathy!"

"OK!" yelled Cathy and the two started up the stairs before either of their parents could stop them.

John and Louise smiled and turned to face each other. "So you're home," smiled Louise

"Last time I checked," said John "Now what do we usually do when I get home. . . oh yeah . . . I remember . . ." he looked lovingly at his wife and leaned down to kiss her. Suddenly, giggles sounded from the stairs and John and Louise broke apart and looked up to see their daughters peering down at them from in between the railing bars

"Becky!" Cathy reprimanded her younger sister and looked down at her parents

"Oops!" giggled Becky sheepishly and both girls ran away to their shared bedroom. John and Louise laughed at this. Louise stopped suddenly as she remembered something. Something from the past. She turned away from the loving smile of her husband, which was growing weaker as he realized something was the matter with his wife.

"Louise, honey, what's the matter?" he asked, concern in his voice.

"Nothing, nothing," she replied "You've been home all these years, but still I'm surprised to see you home early, that's all. Before you went to Korea, you never returned home until the girls went to bed most evenings because of all those medical conferences you went to."

John exhaled slowly and shakily. He ran his hand through his curly blond hair and breathed deeply. He wanted to make sure he would be able to talk without his voice shaking too much. He hated even thinking of those 'medical conferences' as Louise had so put it. They had been years ago, but now, as Louise brought them up, they seemed like they had been just yesterday. He had done it. . . he was never sure why he had done it. Probably because…because Louise was such a good person. So supportive of him and the kids it had seemed too good to be true. He didn't think a person like that would marry him. He kept expecting something to go wrong and he didn't want to be hurt when and if it did so then the 'medical conferences' ensued. Nothing ever went wrong, but that was Louise. He had realized that it was possible for someone to be that perfect and married to him just in time for his number to come up at his local draft board. Then he had gone. . . there. . . and all those nurses. . . he still was never sure what they even were. Maybe he was still testing Louise, or maybe. . . maybe it had just been loneliness and the ever-present shock of being away from his family that made him do it. All married military men went through those two things. Some just dealt with it differently than others.

"The 'medical conferences' . . . " John said remorsefully. He touched his wife's long brown hair hanging loosely below her shoulders. He wiped away a tear that had suddenly fallen from her deep blue eyes and tipped her chin up so he would be looking into her eyes "I don't go to those anymore."

Those were the six little words Louise McIntyre had wanted to hear come from her husband's mouth, but never expected to hear "Oh John!" she cried and fell into his arms.

John held her close and whispered, "It's all right, baby. . . It's all right" every so often.

Louise sniffed and pulled away from her husband "Enough of this, I don't want the girls coming down and seeing me like this. Like a wreck,"

"It would be all right," laughed John

"No it wouldn't!" insisted Louise, drying her eyes "I wouldn't want to explain what I was crying about to them. Ever."

John stopped laughing "You're right, Louise . . . but you won't . . . ya know . . . hold that over my head as a way to get me to do what you want. Or tell them and make them hate me."

"Of course not, John. I love you more than anything and I wouldn't hurt you or the girls that way."

John smiled "I love you too, Louise, my darling" Louise leaned into her husband and received a hug and kiss.

"All right," laughed Louise, pulling away "the roast is going to burn if we keep this up. Oh, John, who do you know in Mill Valley, California?"

"No one, why?" asked John, puzzled "I never even knew there was a Mill Valley in California"

"Well, apparently there is. Something came for you from there today. It must be from Hawkeye or one of your friends in Korea."

"How do ya figure?"

Louise laughed "Well, It's addressed to 'Trapper'. . ."

John laughed too "Yeah, they're the only people who call me 'Trapper', but it can't be from any of them. Radar lives in Iowa, Klinger in Ohio, Father Mulcahy's in Pennsylvania and last I heard from Hawkeye, he was living in Crabapple Cove, Maine and wasn't planning to leave unless the state caught fire or something."

"What about the other two…uh…Burns and Houlihan?"

John burst out laughing "Frank Burns and Margaret Houlihan! Writing to me! You've got to be kidding me! The only thing I ever had in common with either of them is we hated each other. Same with Hawkeye. I doubt it's either of them."

"Just open it, John. Whoever it's from, it looks important" Louise said as she left the living room to go into the kitchen. John ripped open the envelope and a note fell on the floor in front of him. He bent down and picked it up. As he opened the note, he grew excited when he recognized the familiar untidy scrawl of his best friend. It said simply:

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Trap,

It's been awhile hasn't it? Anyway, I need ask you something important regarding the other thing in the envelope so call me when you get a minute. Call me at this number: (415) 921-7584. It's the number of my friend, BJ Hunnicut (the guy who replaced you in Korea), I'm staying with him, which probably explains the postmark, right? I'll talk to you soon, I guarantee it. After you read the other thing, if you haven't already, the only thing you're going to want to do is talk to me (and maybe try to knock some sense into me once you find out what it's about, knowing you. But, my old friend, it's not gonna work, sorry). I won't keep you in suspense any longer (on the other hand, that would be fun, ha ha,) but I'm not that mean. . . wait a minute, I am, but that's another story. See you soon.

Hawk

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John stared at the note for a minute and reread it again to make sure he hadn't missed a clue on what the heck his old friend was talking about. He called out to Louise "There's a note. It's from Hawkeye. He says he's visiting a friend in Mill Valley and not much else but his usual confusing riddles. . . but that's Hawk for you".

"He wrote all the way from Mill Valley just to tell you riddles?" Louise called back.

"No there's something else in the envelope. He referred to it once or twice in the letter and told me once I read it I would want to knock some sense into him, but it wouldn't work and to call him in Mill Valley once I read it."

"Well, what is the other thing?"

"Hold on, lemee read it. . . " he trailed off as he opened the other thing in the envelope. The thing dropped from his hands once he reached the end. "Omigod" he whispered

"Well, John, don't keep me in suspense. What is it?"

"You won't believe it. . . I don't believe it. . . You remember how I told you that Hawkeye hated this one person we knew from Korea so much if he ever married her, old Mr. Sommers next door would announce he's expecting twins? Well, I think we'd better go congratulate Mr. Sommers. . ."

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Boston, Massachusetts

Wednesday, April 27, 1956

9:00AM

Charles Emerson Winchester III entered the dining room of the mansion that also housed his parents, his sister, and countless servants. "Good morning, Charles." addressed his mother.

"Good morning Mother, Father, Honoria." he addressed back automatically and took his customary place at the table, his mother on the right of him and his father at the left, at the head of the table of course, and Honoria across the table from him. The serving man, Harvey served him his food and stepped back near the sideboard and Charles started to eat.

The table was silent. He could hear the soft clink of the utensils against the plates it was so quiet. Charles liked it this way. He didn't have to talk to his family, which was always a good thing. Since his return from Korea, he had noticed they had changed. . . or had he changed? They were extremely shallow. All they cared about was being invited to the latest greatest social event of the season. A ball or other event for the wealthy. That used to be his top priority too, hadn't it? He couldn't even remember anymore. But now, it was hard to make something as unimportant as that his top priority after watching countless people die for a year and a half. 'No, Charles, don't think of that' he thought to himself angrily. He was trying to forget the war, even if it killed him. It made him remember things he would rather forget. . . like the Chinese musicians. . . 'NO!' He yelled at himself. 'NOT THOSE DAMMED MUSICIANS!' That experience, for him, had been his worst experience of the whole war. Those people hadn't even been involved in the war more than to become prisoners of war, but yet they were senselessly killed for something they weren't even directly involved in. He still couldn't listen to classical music. . .

Determined to take memories of the war out of his mind, Charles stared down at his food. French toast and a poached egg on a genuine ivory plate. A long stemmed silver goblet filled with orange juice and a teacup filled with coffee. All accompanied by sterling silver silverware, a cloth napkin and an ivory napkin ring.

Suddenly, the silverware turned to cheap metal silverware, the cloth napkin to a paper one and the napkin ring disappeared totally. The teacup turned to a white, cheap porcelain coffee cup and the silver goblet disappeared to join the napkin ring. The ivory plate turned to a metal tray, the French toast to American World War II surplus toast, hard as a rock and the poached egg became scrambled, so much so it became liquid. The beautiful wood poly-eurthaned table topped with a chenille tablecloth; the same material as the napkin turned to an uncovered wooden one, almost like a picnic table. The white walls around him turned to army-drab colored canvas. His family disappeared and were replaced by ghosts of people he could barely see now, and hadn't seen them since then. Charles could almost hear the annoying comments on the food made by one Hawkeye Pierce. He could almost see Pierce now, left elbow on the table, propping up his head, right hand holding a fork up to his nose to smell the 'food' on it. Now, he could almost hear BJ Hunnicut, Pierce's best friend complaining he couldn't eat after Pierce's comments . . .

"Charles! Are you going to get your mail or aren't you?" yelled a female voice, ridding him of his daydreams of eating in the mess tent of the 4077th M*A*S*H. The place settings, room, and people in it changed back to normal. Charles looked up from his breakfast, French toast and poached eggs again, to the woman who was addressing him: his sister, Honoria. Out of his whole family, Honoria was the one he could tolerate the least now. They used to be very close, but now…now ever since she had lost her stutter after he'd returned from Korea, she had turned from his stuttering, beloved baby sister, who shared so much in common with him, to a screechy woman, who had nothing in common with him, and the two were as different as night and day. But, mostly, if he really started to think about it, she was just the same as she had been before he had left for Korea. Maybe he had changed . . .

"What is it?" asked Charles, rather annoyed at the interruption of him thinking of the place he . . . dammit, he had to admit it . . . missed.

"I told you. . . Jeeves has been standing there with your mail for 5 minutes now and you're off somewhere staring at me like I'm saying the most disgusting things in the world when I'm not saying a thing until I started calling you! Are you deaf?"

'If only she knew. . .' Charles thought to himself when she was talking about him looking like she was saying something disgusting '. . . Or maybe it's better if she doesn't know'. Charles wasn't ready, even after 2 years of being back, to talk of his experiences in Korea. He had told them of a few things, nothing of any importance. He just wasn't ready to talk about it. Not yet. Charles tuned back in to his sister's screechings when she reached the end of it.

He looked up at the mail butler, Jeeves, who, he just noticed, was standing over him, offering a letter. Charles then looked at his family, all of whom, he noticed suddenly, had mail too. Charles looked back at the butler and apologized "I'm terribly sorry, Jeeves. I did not mean to ignore you, my mind was wandering uncontrollably and I sincerely apologize for keeping you waiting."

"Quite all right, Master Charles." said Jeeves stiffly, handed him the letter and left the room after a quick "If you are in no need of me anymore sirs and madams," to the Winchesters.

Charles noticed the stiffness in Jeeves' voice, but wasn't worried of offending the older man. He always sounded like that. Charles looked at his family and noticed they were all staring down at their laps like they didn't want to talk to him, which was all right with Charles. He didn't think anything of their behavior until he remembered a rule his father had made when he and Honoria were children 'Don't apologize to the servants'. Charles had always obeyed that rule until now but now that he had been taught manners from spending a year and a half away from the influence of his parents, he didn't care about that rule. Ignoring his family, Charles looked down at the letter in his hands. The first thing he noticed about it was it had a postmark from Mill Valley, California 'Mill Valley . . .' he mused in his head 'That's where Hunnicut lives . . .' Charles turned the letter over and opened it. There were many things in the envelope. He took out the biggest one and scanned it quickly. He didn't think he had read it right, so he read it a second time and it said the same thing it had said the first time.

"My word . . ." Charles said out loud.

"What is it, Charles?" asked Mrs. Winchester.

Without remembering whom he was talking to, he started "You remember my . . . my . . . um . . .from Korea . . ."

"Friends?" suggested Mr. Winchester.

"I guess you could say that . . ." Charles admitted. His father could say it, that was fine, but, though he knew it to be true, he still couldn't say it out loud.

"BJ Hunnicut was the one who came up with the idea to have the reunion party for the families" supplied Honoria and their parents nodded.

"Right" said Charles, rather shocked they remembered who they were and even more shocked Honoria remembered the name of one of them. They didn't remember such . . . such pointless drivel, they would call it.

"Well, two of them are getting married." he finished, wanting to keep it short and sweet, as he knew they didn't really care.

"Really Charles? We'll go of course!" said his mother

"When is it, son?" his father asked.

"We . . . what?" asked Charles, shocked. Shocked that they seemed . . . he barely dared say it . . . seemed to care about the marriage of his friends. Wanted to do something for him, instead of being so self-involved. Wanting to go watch people they would probably call common people get married. Until 5 minutes ago, he would of thought the idea of his family doing something involving people he cared about was ludicrous. The chance was slim to none. 'I never would have guessed they would actually want to go' Charles thought to himself 'I probably should have given them more of a chance. Allowed them in to the more private part of my life. I guess they're not as pompous as they seem . . . ' If he could stop being so pompous, then anyone could.

But on the other hand . . . maybe he should just check . . . "Um . . .you . . . you really want to go?"

"Of course we want to go, Charles." his mother said "You were a part of their lives and them part of yours for a long time, it's only obvious you would want to go."

"And we're your family, Charles. Those people from Korea were a big part of your life, and we would like to know more about the people who are the big portion of your life" put in his father.

"You never talk about it and we've never pressed it because we assumed it was too painful to talk about to people whom might not understand" added his mother

'It all makes sense now' Charles thought 'It's not they didn't care. It's just they thought I cared too much'

"It will be splendid to see the O'Reillys again, wouldn't it, Mother?" added Honoria, making Charles chuckle slightly as he remembered how disgusted he had been when he found out how well his family had gotten along with the O'Reillys. Honoria then turned to Charles "They are coming, aren't they?"

"Yes, I assume they are invited."

"Good, it will be simply splendid to see them again. We lost touch a month or two after the reunion party and we never got to invite them to the Cape house" said his mother. Charles shuddered at the remembrance of how he had felt when he found out that the getting away from the people in Korea wouldn't be as easy as it was going to be and how Pierce and Hunnicut had both started in on him the minute Radar had told them his mother said that his family had invited them to the Cape after the war.

"I wonder how Ed is getting on . . ." mused his mother "I remember Edna saying he had a heart condition . . ."

Charles stared at her "Mother, Ed O'Reilly died of a heart attack about three months after the party."

"You never told me that!" said his mother in horror "I never sent Edna any condolences or anything . . . I can imagine what she thinks of us now! Why did you never tell me, Charles?"

"You never asked." he answered simply "Besides, Mrs. O'Reilly is a simple lady. She will not beat you over the head with the ace of spades because you did not send anything." This got stares from his family. Maybe some things had changed, but some things (like their senses of humor, or lack thereof) hadn't.

Mrs. Winchester regained her composure "I am glad I brought it up and you told me, Charles. Imagine what she would have thought if I had asked Edna the whereabouts of her brother!" Another thing didn't change; Mrs. Winchester still cared deeply what people thought of her and her family.

"When is the wedding, Charles?" asked his father, changing the subject completely.

Charles checked the invitation "May 5th" His father's face broke out into a big grin "Splendid! No one make any plans for the 5th of May" he turned to face his son "we are going to a wedding!" Charles dropped his father's gaze and looked down. . . no, not shyly. . . anything but shyly. . . more like awkwardly. . .

Suddenly a squeal, the source of which being Honoria, sounded from across the table.

"What is it Honoria, darling?" asked Mr. Winchester.

"Daddy, we've been invited to the Governor's Ball in England!"

"The Governor's Ball, Honoria!" cried Mrs. Winchester rapturously "We'll have to plan the outfits immediately!"

"When is it, Honoria?" asked Mr. Winchester.

She checked the invitation "May 5th. That's the day of the wedding of Charles' friends."

"That's all right," said Charles, surprised they'd remembered, though it had only been 5 minutes ago they had talked of it "I'll go to the wedding and you can go to England."

"No," said Honoria "they said they wanted the whole family or none of the family".

Mr. Winchester turned to his son "Would you mind, son, if we missed the wedding to go to the Governor's Ball? Honoria, if you remember, has wanted to go since she was a girl, and I'm positive there will be another reunion of your M*A*S*H friends another time."

"But, Father, it's not just a reunion, it's a wedding of two people who, you said yourself, are of great importance to me."

"But Cha-arles," whined Honoria "you know that if you don't go to the Ball the first time you are invited, you will never be invited again!"

"I do not believe it is fair to always be forced to do things concerning Honoria and have to sacrifice the things I care about in order to do this." He said through gritted teeth, trying to keep himself civil.

"Charles, what on Earth are you talking about?" asked Mrs. Winchester

"I was 9 years old it was Christmas Eve. I was picked up by Reynolds, the driver in the second limousine coming home from boarding school because you were in the first limousine picking up Honoria from her boarding school . . ."

"Charles . . ."

"Not done . . . I was 12 it was the last night for a recital of Mozart music, but it was also the last night for the Russian Ballet. I wanted to listen to the Mozart music. Honoria wanted to go to the ballet and neither of us were old enough to go alone. We went to the ballet . . . and " he said quickly, on a roll and not wanting to have to pause for interruptions "and who could forget the day I graduated from medical school . . . oh . . . you could considering the fact YOU WEREN'T THERE! Honoria was performing in a piano recital and both of you HAD TO GO! There were many more occasions I can think of where I had to give up something for Honoria and none where she gave up something for me! In all those times, one of you could have gone with Honoria, the other with me, but did you . . . NO! OF COURSE NOT!"

"Charles Emerson Winchester, you are acting like a spoiled little child!" yelled Mrs. Winchester. "I thought I raised you to be courteous and polite."

"There's a fine line between giving up what you want for others and doing it every day of your childhood, which, may I remind you, was fully conducted by the boarding schools. You raised me! Ha! That's a laugh! You were too busy raising Honoria!"

"And Timmy." said Mrs. Winchester darkly

"Don't you even talk of Timmy!" roared Charles at the memory of his dead younger brother "You raised Honoria and Timmy here in the manor while I was shuffled from boarding school to boarding school!"

"Charles, aren't you a tad old to be playing 'I'm the Neglected Child' and 'She was Always Mommy and Daddy's Favorite'?" said Honoria silkily

"You're just saying that because you know you will get your way as always!" yelled Charles "I would like to go to this wedding! You don't even have to come along! Go to England! Try to get in without me! I don't care what you do, just let me go to this wedding!"

"Charles, you were never neglected and you know it" said Mr. Winchester "You were always well cared for whether you lived here or not. You weren't always living at a boarding school just like Honoria and Timmy weren't always living at home. Every year, your mother and I decided which children would be better at a school and which at home according to what was going on in your educations and the home life. Since you were older than Timmy and Honoria by a number of years, and they were close in age, some years it was easier for you to be at school while the two of them were at home. Less children to worry about. Like the years after Timmy and Honoria were born or the year or two before Timmy died. You and Honoria were at school at that point, not just you, remember, Charles? And Honoria got her way most of the time because she's younger and she, then, was too young to understand she couldn't get her way all the time, so we just thought it easier to give her what she wanted, even if it meant we couldn't give you what you wanted, because you could understand why better."

Charles snorted "You deemed it wise to give your daughter what she wanted all the time instead of disappointing her, so you ended up disappointing your son. Though, I do suppose that explains why she is a spoiled little brat!"

"Charles!" yelled Mrs. Winchester "Your behavior at this point in time is an embarrassment to this family and unbecoming a man of your age and stature! Apologize to your sister at once!"

"No! I will not grovel at the feet of my awful little sister! Children need to learn how to accept the fact they can't get what they want all the time!"

Mrs. Winchester raised her eyebrows at her son "Oh really, Charles . . . and how many children have you raised?"

"That is unimportant." Charles said coldly "What I said is common sense. You do not let one child have whatever she wants at the expense of the other. That causes them to be spoiled and selfish."

"You should know about selfishness," mumbled Honoria.

"I am not as selfish as you are, dear sister. But I digress. I am well over the age of 18, perfectly capable to make my own decisions. I am an adult and I no longer have to be ordered around by you! I am going to this wedding and there is NOTHING you can do to stop me!"

Mr. Winchester smirked "Really . . . nothing?"

Charles rose from the table "Yes, nothing! I will be going to Mill Valley, California. Upon my return, I will move out of the estate and you will never hear from me again."

"Fine by me" mumbled Honoria

"Oh really now . . . would you like to hear what I will do to you if you go to this wedding, son"

"Do your worst, Father" Charles smirked down at his father and started to walk the long walk out of the dining room.

"Upon your return, you will be kicked out of the house and we won't care what happens to you."

"I am already moving out after I return."

"All your clothes will be in the dirt. I know how you hate to wear dirty clothes."

"I'll buy new ones."

"You will be disinherited. Written out of my and your mother's will, unable to bear the Winchester or the Emerson name by law, you will be cut off from the Winchester fortune . . ."

Charles stopped short at the door and Mr. Winchester started to chuckle deviously "I knew that was the one. Your money means a lot more to you than your puny, poor friends . . . You are scared of being without money like them . . . shall I have Jeeves purchase 4 tickets to England?" Charles took a deep breath, stiffened up and, after collecting the things of his that he had purchased with his own money, walked out the front door.

Twenty minutes later, he entered Boston General, mumbling to himself. At least he didn't have to worry about his so-called father taking his job away from him. Margaret Houlihan had helped him get this job. Charles entered his office after nodding to his secretary, Joanne and requesting no calls. He took an envelope out of his jacket pocket, played with a piece of paper inside it, while toying with the idea of calling a number on it. He took a deep breath. 'If I can get out of my parents' house I can do anything'. He thought to himself. Charles took another deep breath, reached out for the telephone and called the number.