Twenty Years On

August 18, 1973

Margaret walked down the hill toward the gravesite, scanning for any familiar faces. And to her relief, there was Klinger a few yards ahead, watching her arrival with a smile. When she reached him, they embraced, and he said what a shame it was, losing Col. Potter, but he had lived a good, long life. Margaret nodded, tears in her eyes. "He was a wonderful man."

They stood in the graveyard and made small talk, waiting to see who else from the 4077th might show up. Twenty years had passed since the war ended, and people couldn't really be expected to drop everything to attend the funeral of their long-ago Commanding Officer, however beloved he was. Still, Margaret hoped there would be more of a turnout than just her and Klinger.

She was close to giving up on the idea when Klinger tapped her arm and pointed, "Ah, there we go. More representatives from the mighty 4077th." She looked up the hill to see Hawkeye and B.J. (both silver-haired now, but looking well) cresting it and then descending in their direction, walking close together but not quite touching, in perfect time with each other.

Margaret laughed in spite of herself. "Those two are something else. All these years later, and they still show up together, walking in step. I'm telling you, it's not normal."

Klinger looked at her. "You don't know?"

"Know what?" She didn't know much of anything about her former campmates. She hadn't really kept in touch with anyone.

"Hawkeye and B.J. are...you know, a couple. For close to 20 years now. B.J. got divorced a few months after the war ended."

Margaret stood there watching them, her mouth forming an O. No, she hadn't known, but in a strange way it wasn't a complete surprise.

The funeral was beginning; she would have to wait until it was over to greet them. As she listened to the pastor's solemn words, she saw that they were holding hands, and she found it very sweet.

After the lowering of the coffin into the ground, Margaret walked over to Hawkeye and B.J., exchanging hellos and embracing each in turn.

"You look great, Margaret," Hawkeye said.

"So do you guys. You look very... contented. Happy. Klinger told me you were... I don't even know what word to use."

"Lovers?" Hawkeye supplied helpfully.

"That's a bit too graphic for mainstream America, Hawk," B.J. said.

Hawk shrugged. "Call it what it is. We give the ol' mattress springs a serious workout every night."

"And twice on Sunday," added B.J., for accuracy's sake.

"Well, I'm happy for you both," Margaret said, meaning it. "But I have to say, I never even suspected that either one of you was... gay."

Hawkeye gestured dismissively. "We don't put a label on it."

"Yeah, that seems too simplistic," B.J. said. "I was never attracted to any man other than Hawkeye. When you find the right person, you just know they're the right person. In our case, we happen to be the same sex. So what?" He gave a casual shrug. Margaret might have thought they were in denial, except for the fact that they made perfect sense. No need for labels. It just was.

"Society can approve or disapprove," Hawkeye added. "What do we care?"

Margaret noted the gleam in their eyes as they spoke about their relationship, and she said wistfully, "I don't know if I'll ever find what you two have."

"I thought you'd gotten married?" Hawk asked. "I mean, a second time."

She nodded. "I did. And divorced a second time, too. I'm still looking for the right person."

"You'll find him," Hawkeye confidently predicted.

"Or her," B.J. tossed in with a teasing smile.

"C'mon, Margaret," Hawkeye said, starting to lead her away from the Colonel's gravesite. "Let's collect Klinger and find ourselves a bar. I'll buy you a drink. We'll toast to the memory of Sherman Potter."

"And then we'll toast to finding soul mates," said B.J., also putting an arm around Margaret.

She nodded and smiled sadly as the three of them headed out of the graveyard. Easy for them to say. They'd already found theirs.