"Mind if I ask you something, Beej?"

"Go right ahead."

It was day four of the packing that never seemed to end, though they actually were making serious progress by this point. Hawkeye planned for them to take tomorrow off from the chore entirely, give themselves a much-needed break and just spend the day golfing and otherwise relaxing. Today they were cleaning out Daniel's kitchen, and most of the stuff that was still useful was simply going to be donated to the local soup kitchen.

Hawkeye closed the cupboard he'd just emptied out and glanced at B.J. "Why do you work so many long hours at the hospital?"

As he figured, a look of annoyance flashed across B.J.'s face. "What, did you turn into Peg when I wasn't paying attention?"

"Don't be pissed, OK? It's a legitimate question."

B.J. extended his hand as if offering a shake. "Have we met? B.J. Hunnicutt, I'm a surgeon."

Hawkeye didn't play along with the sarcasm. "Yes, and surgeons do sometimes have to work unexpectedly long hours. I know that very well. But here's the thing: when I'm out there in Mill Valley for a visit, you cut back on your hours then. And this is the second time you've come out to Maine in the last month or so, which means you're again putting your work on the back-burner for me. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate it. I love you for it. But I'm sure your wife is also aware of what I'm pointing out… that you can break away from the hospital when you want to." He opened another cupboard and began the process of methodically stacking utensils into a new box. "So I'm wondering why there are magically all these long hours at work at other times." He paused, and softened his voice for this next part, "Talk to me, Beej."

With a sigh, B.J. stopped packing dishes and dropped into the nearest kitchen chair. Hawkeye took a break as well, to show he was going to give his full attention to the conversation. He found a couple of tall glasses and poured ice tea, then sat at the table with his friend.

For a time, B.J. just sipped his drink while Hawkeye waited him out. "It's weird," B.J. finally said, gazing out the kitchen window. "Before the war, my marriage was perfect. Everything about my life was perfect. I adored Peg, we had Erin and I adored her too. I hadn't even fully adjusted to being a dad when the war came calling."

"I remember."

B.J. nodded, but kept his eyes on Daniel Pierce's backyard. "The whole time I was over there… well, you know, I don't have to tell you. I missed them like hell and I couldn't wait to get back to them. I counted the days."

"You did."

"But soon after I got back home, things seemed to change."

"Change how?"

"The perfect marriage had become… difficult. Peg and I—always so open and honest with each other before—were no longer communicating. Little things turned into big arguments. So, at some point I realized I was happier if I stayed at work longer. Work gave me satisfaction, it gave me a purpose, and things at home were frustrating." He finally brought his eyes back to Hawkeye's and said firmly, "Erin is the light of my life and I would do anything to save her from pain, so I don't even consider divorce. Or at least, not often."

Hawkeye was stunned but at the same time not really; he had sensed something. "Beej, I am so sorry. Why am I just hearing all of this now?"

"Because…" B.J. waved his hand, indicating Daniel Pierce's house, "because you have shit of your own to deal with. And because it's hard to talk about, even with my best friend in all the world. I haven't told anyone about this… not my folks, not any of my colleagues. If, hypothetically, Sidney Freedman had an office next door to my house, I don't know if I would even be able to talk to him about it."

Hawkeye grasped B.J.'s arm, "Well I'm glad you're talking about it now."

"It seems wrong, when I have so much, to complain about anything. Maybe marriage is supposed to be hard. What do I know? Maybe it is."

Shaking his head, Hawkeye said, "Not that hard, I don't think. Not that I'm any expert on the subject, of course." He smiled and got a weak smile in return.

B.J. finished his ice tea and let out a sigh. "Good Lord, Hawk… what a pair we are, huh? Were we actually happier during the Korean War? Could that be true?"

Hawkeye had to laugh at that observation. Hell, it was either laugh or cry. "Probably is true… and how's that for irony?"

"So those were the good ol' days," B.J. marveled. "Wish somebody had told us."

"I think Burns may have told us, but who the hell listened to anything that guy said?"

Hawkeye rinsed out the empty glasses and the two of them got back to work. There was a heaviness in the air now, following B.J.'s shocking confession, and because Hawkeye didn't know how to combat it, they simply packed in silence.