After a tense breakfast of Hawkeye's fluffy and delicious buttermilk pancakes, freshly squeezed orange juice, and coffee for BJ (tea for Hawkeye), the two men agreed that a day out was in order. A fierce debate of car versus bike ensued, ending in Hawkeye reluctantly handing over the keys to BJ's motorcycle. Since Hawkeye refused to borrow BJ's helmet and leave his friend's head exposed, he spent the next twenty minutes digging through the accumulated detritus in the Pierce family garage to find Daniel's WWI army gear.

"You look ridiculous," BJ informed him, gesturing to Hawkeye's steel "Liberty Bell" helmet and plaid flannel jacket combo. BJ kickstarted the bike with a heeled black leather boot. The motorcycle responded with a throaty rumble.

"And you look like a reject from a Marlon Brando movie," Hawkeye yelled back, swinging a leg over the seat to sit behind BJ. "I'm doing this against my better judgment, I'll have you know."

"C'mon, Hawk. Live a little," BJ shouted over the roar of the engine. "Where we headed?"

"Just follow this road straight into town. Three stop signs later and we'll be at the pier."

A brisk headwind met the two men as they headed east toward the water feature that gave Crabapple Cove its name. Hawkeye huddled behind his friend.

"Exhilarating, isn't it?" BJ yelled over his shoulder.

Hawkeye shook his head against BJ's back. "We could have been nice and warm in my dad's Studebaker," he hollered.

BJ deftly maneuvered around a fallen tree branch and whooped in reply. Just before the road ended, he turned the handlebars sharply and stopped the bike with a spray of gravel.

"Well?" he asked, taking off his helmet. "Did you enjoy the ride?" He maneuvered his way off the bike, careful not to jostle Hawkeye, who appeared a bit green.

"Uh," Hawkeye replied, swallowing heavily, still huddled on the bike. He shivered.

BJ helped him off the motorcycle. "That good, huh? You'll get used to it." And then, as if realizing what he had said, added, "I mean, if you want to." BJ stripped off his driving gloves and tucked them into the front pockets of his leather jacket. "You cold, Hawk?"

The other man peered at him from under the old helmet. "I'm wearing a st-st-steel bell on my h-h-head, what do you think?" He wrapped his arms around himself, quaking.

"I think you aren't dressed for the elements," BJ said lightly. He took off his jacket, leaving him in only a T-shirt. "Which is ironic, given that you're the one who actually lives here."

"W-w-what are you doing? We're walking through an ice b-b-box and you're in short sleeves."

"Here," BJ replied. "Put this on."

"B-but you'll f-freeze to death! I'm not taking the b-b-blame for your untimely demise."

BJ rolled his eyes. "It's not that cold, Hawk. Trade me your jacket." He helped Hawkeye fumble his way out of the red and white flannel, and the men swapped their outerwear.

"Oh my God," Hawkeye groaned. "This is so warm! It's like a bed with sleeves. I apologize for every nasty thing I've ever said about this jacket."

"Your flannel isn't half-bad, either. But I suspect the wind cuts right through it." He leveled a stare at Hawkeye. "What do you normally wear out in the cold?" He handed the other man his own leather helmet. "Take off that ridiculous World War One relic and put this on," he ordered.

"Bossy, much?" Hawkeye took off Daniel's helmet, but eyed BJ's with skepticism. "Why?"

BJ rolled his eyes. "You don't have an ounce of self-preservation, do you?" He fastened the straps of his helmet under Hawkeye's chin. "You lose forty percent of your body heat through your head."

"Well, what about your head?" Hawkeye tugged at his friend's thinning hair. "I have more insulation than you."

BJ shrugged. "Apparently, I'm more acclimated to spending time outdoors than you are." He rubbed his hands together and blew on them.

Hawkeye gave him a fond smile. "Remember those balmy winter nights in Korea? Brings back fond memories, doesn't it? Fire pits, roaches, Igor's fine dining." He reached into the pockets of BJ's jacket and handed back his friend's leather gloves. "Put these on, Dr. Hunnicutt."

"Hawk, I think you should wear—"

"There's a hat and mittens in the inner pocket of my flannel."

BJ pulled out the black woolen beanie and hand-knitted mittens and quickly put them on. "Okay, I take back what I said. You have at least a half an ounce of self-preservation." He held up one mittened hand and studied it. "And your needlework is improving."

Hawkeye grinned. "So nice of you to notice. Shall I knit you a matching pair?"

"No, I like these." BJ smiled back at his friend as Hawkeye put on BJ's gloves. "You do need a better coat, though."

Hawkeye smirked. "Beej, I realize that in California, this flannel may be a coat, but in Maine, this is a jacket." He tugged at the curved hem of the red and white flannel his friend now wore. "I didn't realize how cold it would get on that bike or I would have worn my actual winter coat or even Dad's parka."

BJ studied him. "You still up for a walk?"

Hawkeye tipped his head and nodded. "Let's head toward the pier and I'll give you a tour of our little metropolis.

The two men walked toward the simple wooden structure. Hawkeye pointed out various features along the way, some geographical ("Beej, that's the oldest crabapple tree in Crabapple Cove!") and some autobiographical ("I once made out with Sharon Lewis over there. She was a cheerleader and my first girlfriend."). Shortly, they reached the boat docks flanking the pier.

BJ studied the rocky terrain. "Sure doesn't look like California," he commented, sounding wistful.

Hawkeye noted the slump of BJ's shoulders. "You homesick?" he asked.

BJ's eyes moved to study the calm waters of the cove. "Yes," he said, finally. "And no," he added, looking over at Hawkeye, a mix of emotions flitting across his face. "I'm just . . ." BJ's words slid into a sigh. "I'm not ready to go back."

"Okay," Hawkeye said with a shrug. "Mi casa es su casa."

BJ sighed. "Your dad won't like me staying." He frowned, folding his arms. "I haven't exactly been at my best."

"My father will understand," Hawkeye replied, placing a hand on BJ's shoulder. "He knows you're going through a hard time." He gave his friend's shoulder a squeeze. "And he knows you got me through the war. That counts for a lot."

When they reached the end of the empty pier, Hawkeye sat down, cross-legged. BJ inched into the same position gingerly, favoring one side.

"That rib still sore?"

BJ grimaced as he replied. "It wasn't until someone grabbed on to me on the ride over here." BJ looked at Hawkeye accusingly.

"Sorry about that, Beej," Hawkeye said, not appearing contrite in the slightest. "I feared for my life!"

When BJ didn't respond, Hawkeye gentled his voice. "If you're gonna stay for awhile, Beej, we need to talk."

BJ's entire posture tensed. "About what?"

"Well, I can't help but notice that you haven't called Peg once since you've been—"

"I haven't been in a state to call her, Hawk," BJ interjected.

"—here, and she hasn't called you either," Hawkeye finished.

BJ took in a deep breath and looked out toward the water. "I really can't talk about it."

"Can't or won't?"

BJ swung his arms in a jagged, swooping gesture as he rose to stand. "Everything has to be black or white for you, doesn't it?" He pointed down at Hawkeye. "Good versus bad. A winner and a loser."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hawkeye stood up to face BJ, so they were nearly toe to toe.

"I'm not the guy you think I am." BJ's voice cracked over the words.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind."

"Oh, no. No, no, no. We need to talk about this. What's going on with Peg?" He spoke more gently. "The first night you were here, you said she was afraid of you. That she hated you." Hawkeye let BJ glance away before pinning him with a stare.

"What?" BJ snapped.

"Is any of that true?"

"She threw me out, Hawk. Okay? Is that answer enough for you?" BJ began to pace around the end of the small pier, his heavy boots noisy in the stillness. "I came home drunk after a horrible day at work and we got into a fight. She says I pushed her." BJ's hands began to shake. "I don't - I don't remember it that way, Hawk, but I was really out of it." BJ's entire body started to quiver. From stress or the cold, Hawkeye wasn't sure. Maybe both.

"How do you remember it?"

BJ looked up, stricken. "She wouldn't hit me, Hawkeye. Her hand must have slipped." BJ rubbed his sore eye.

"Peg did this to you?" Hawkeye's voice reflected the incredulity of the situation. He gestured at the fading bruises ringing BJ's eye.

BJ shook his head. "No, that was the police, after she called them," he said, bitterly.

Hawkeye blinked at his friend, guiding him away from the water. "A policeman hit you?"

"Two of them, actually." BJ smiled, a tense, rictus grin. "One got my eye and the other nailed my rib. I don't - I thought I was back in Korea and the MPs were coming for Peg and Erin."

Hawkeye sighed. He wrapped an arm around BJ's shoulders and attempted to keep him walking toward the shore.

BJ threw his friend's arm off and stood his ground. "Well?" he thundered.

"Well, what?" Hawkeye parroted.

"Aren't you going to say something?"

"I think we should head home. This is the kind of conversation that requires blankets and warm tea. Maybe even hot chocolate." At BJ's baffled expression, Hawkeye continued, "I don't care, okay? There's nothing that's going to come out of your mouth that's going to change my mind about you."

"Even if I'm a wife-beater?" BJ swallowed hard.

"You've never laid a hand on Peg!" Hawkeye insisted. "I know you! You would never hurt a woman."

"I did, Hawkeye! A few months ago, I grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises!"

Hawkeye shook his head. "If you did, you had a good reason."

"I saw the scissors and I just snapped." BJ had a faraway look in his eyes, and Hawkeye took advantage of the shivering man's momentary distraction to lead him further away from the water. "She says I grabbed her for no reason, but I remember the scissors hitting the floor." He flinched and looked at Hawkeye with wide eyes. "She was trying to hurt me." A tear slid down his face. "I left my daughter with her, Hawk. What kind of father am I?"

Hawkeye pulled the man into his arms on the shore of Crabapple Cove and let him cry.