Hawkeye was sitting at his desk in the study, paying some bills, when the doorbell rang. More than happy to abandon his unpleasant task, he headed out of the room and to the front door, thinking that he'd even be willing to listen to a door-to-door salesman right about now, if it meant he could put off balancing the checkbook.

He swung open the door and his eyes went wide, his breath caught. It was most definitely not a door-to-door salesman. He blinked and then looked at his own house number, as if the whole thing were a dream or he'd been transported back in time or something.

Carlye, nee Breslin, later Walton, was standing in front of him… looking like she hadn't aged a day since the last time he saw her, back in Korea. More than three years ago now.

They hadn't been in touch since she walked out of the 4077th, rejecting him for the second time in his life. She'd been planning to divorce her husband—whatever his name was. But whether she'd actually gone through with it, Hawkeye had no idea.

His heart thumped. He realized his mouth was hanging open, and he snapped it shut. "Carlye?"

She smiled, seemed to relax a little, as if she'd been holding her breath until he spoke. "Hi, Hawkeye. How are you?"

Hawkeye had no idea how to answer. His mind was spinning. What was she doing here in San Francisco? What was she doing here at his house? He sputtered, then managed, "I'm doing well. Would you… why don't you come inside while I try to recover from my state of shock?" She stepped inside, past him, and looked around, nodding her head as if thinking, yeah, this looks like Hawkeye's place.

He gestured to the couch and she sat. "Can I get you a cup of coffee?" he asked, still flustered. But he thought he could manage the fairly simple task of brewing coffee, if he needed to.

She shook her head, "No thanks, I'm fine. Please, Hawkeye—sit down. You're making me nervous, standing there staring down at me."

His feet moved and he plopped into an armchair near the couch. "I'm sorry, it's just such a shock. How did you know where to find me?"

She settled back into the couch cushions. "I called your dad and he told me you were living out here. He gave me both your phone number and your address. That was two weeks ago. It took me this long to figure out if I wanted to call or actually fly out here and see you in person." She spread her hands. "You can see what my decision was."

He squinted at her, as if that would help to clarify things. "Is there something wrong? That you needed to find me and see me in person?"

"Oh… no. No. I'm sorry, I'm sure you're completely thrown by my showing up here unannounced."

"It's a surprise, yes. You could say that." He paused, then added, "Not that I'm not happy to see you. But the last time we said goodbye, it seemed… Well, it seemed pretty final, wouldn't you say?"

"I'm sorry about that, Hawk."

He nodded but said nothing. Water under the bridge.

She looked around the living room, buying time, apparently trying to find the right words to start her narrative. "Hawkeye," she finally said, "I divorced Doug, like I told you I was going to."

Doug. That was his name. It was all coming back to Hawkeye now.

"The marriage wasn't working out—well, you know that story, don't you? You were part of it, for a while."

"I believe I had a starring role," he said with a certain bitterness in his tone.

Carlye had the decency to look contrite, then picked up her story. "Well, eventually I met Stephen, an accountant back in Boston, and things with him were good… we got engaged. But he turned out to be another mistake. I seem to be making an awful lot of those in the last few years. I broke off the engagement last month. Something—I'm not exactly sure what—common sense, maybe? Something made me think of you. Doug was a mistake and then Stephen was a mistake, and I got to thinking… Hawkeye was never a mistake. Our timing was just bad, back in Korea."

"That's not what you said then," Hawkeye interjected.

She nodded. "I said a lot of things then. I'm sorry I hurt you."

"Carlye—" Hawkeye began, fairly certain where this conversation was headed.

"Hawkeye, I really am sorry—"

He held up a hand to stop her. "My dad didn't tell you, did he?"

She tilted her head, looking puzzled. "Tell me…?"

"He told you I live in San Francisco, gave you the address, but didn't tell you that I'm… that I'm in a relationship."

Her face reddened a little. "No," she said softly.

"He's not very forthcoming about it," Hawkeye explained. "He doesn't disapprove, necessarily, but he doesn't like having to explain it to people. I'm sure that's why he didn't say anything to you."

She still had her head tilted. "Disapprove? Explain it?" She was understandably confused.

Hawkeye gestured to the photos on the mantle, which Carlye had apparently not noticed yet… photos of him and B.J., sometimes including Erin. "Carlye, it's B.J."

"B.J.," she repeated, contemplating the name, and then evidently recognition struck. Hawkeye watched her expression turn to shock. "The man who shared your tent… that Swamp tent? That's who you mean, right?"

He nodded.

"You're with a man?"

He nodded again. "And very much in love."

She shook her head, as if simply doing that could make it not true. "You're not… Hawkeye, I've known you a long time. You're not homosexual."

He didn't like labels, but sometimes they were necessary. If it made people more comfortable to slap a label on him, then so be it. "Actually, if you want to know the truth, I'd be more inclined to identify myself as bisexual. But yes, I am with a man now… with B.J. And he makes me happy."

Carlye was still shaking her head. He didn't relish rattling her like this, but she needed to know. They fell into silence for several long minutes, and Hawkeye waited her out, understanding that she needed time to absorb what he'd told her. Eventually she said, "I feel very foolish."

"Don't. Please."

"I was coming here to see… to find out if I could maybe get a third chance with you. Not that I had any right to ask, but I wanted to take one last shot. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that was my hope. It's why I flew all the way out here." She focused on his face, and he still saw bewilderment in her expression. "I think you were always the right one for me, and it took me entirely too long to understand that."

"Carlye…"

She stood up abruptly, her hands nervously smoothing her hair back because they needed something to do. "I have to go," she announced, moving toward the door.

He followed her, feeling guilty for how the visit had gone, feeling guilty that she felt compelled to leave. "I'm sorry, Carlye… I wish…" He trailed off, not exactly sure what he wished.

She waved him off. "It's all right, Hawkeye. I'll be fine."

But she didn't look fine as she walked out the door. She looked upset and unnerved, not at all like herself. "Do you have someplace to go?" he asked stupidly, as if she'd just stepped off an airplane and landed on his doorstep.

"I have a hotel room," she said absently.

"Well… OK…"

"Goodbye, Hawkeye." And then she was gone, hurrying to a rental car parked at the curb, not looking back.

She was already inside the car by the time he replied, in a near-whisper, "Bye." He watched her pull out into the street, signal a turn at the corner, and vanish from sight.

The whole thing, from doorbell ring to departure, couldn't have lasted much more than five minutes.

Hawkeye closed the door, leaned back against it, and shut his eyes, trying not to recall what it'd been like years before, when he'd lived and breathed Carlye Breslin.