Any characters of MASH are not mine, they're Fox's sadly. If I owned them, a particular blonde haired vixen and raven-haired sex god would've used their smarts and combined their awesome powers to officially form HM.

"Margaret's pregnant."

These were the two words that Hawkeye Pierce greeted his best friend BJ Hunnicutt with during their first conversation in six weeks. It was three in the morning and Hawkeye was standing in his kitchen, a phone gripped in his hands so tightly he was sure the mouth piece was imprinted on his skin.

"Nice to talk to you too Hawk" BJ yawned.

"Margaret's pregnant Beej" Hawkeye repeated.

"That's nice for her Hawk, is that the only reason you called me at three in the morning?" BJ asked.

"She's pregnant….I didn't even know she was married!" came the distracted response.

"Ok Hawkeye, do me a favour. Find yourself a bench or seat and sit down for a moment. Then slow down and begin at the beginning. What are you talking about?" BJ asked, exasperated. Hawkeye did as he was told and also took a few deep breaths.

"Ok, now tell me what's happening Hawk?" BJ said, soothingly.

"Margaret' pregnant Beej…and she's here"

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The rain poured down the windshield of the car and Margaret Houlihan-Penobscott wondered if she had some sort of force that made the rain follow her. Blue skies and a few clouds had been predicted, but as she looked out the window she could see that the thunder and lightening had eradicated all hopes of that. Sighing, she rested her head on the steering wheel, what was she doing here?

She had woken in the middle of the night, thrown her clothes into a suitcase and fled. She didn't know why, she'd thought about doing this every single night since she had stepped off that plane and onto American soil…no, scratch that. She'd imagined coming here ever since that amazing kiss they'd shared, the last time they saw each other.

It had been three minutes past midnight, she'd been emersed in yet another nightmare, watching the blood drip from yet another faceless being who she knew to be no older then eighteen. She'd been listening to bombs fall and hit the ground three feet in front of her, and she'd been watching him. In the centre of it all her stood, dressed in his white scrubs, stained red with blood, tears in his eyes and hands out stretched towards her. The last she thing remembered before her own screams ripped her from sleep, was watching him take a step towards her, one hand reaching towards her, the other pressed against a new wound in his belly, begging for her help. The neon red numbers of her alarm clock were burned into her eyes, almost the same colour as his blood…

She'd snuck out while Donald was sleeping, gathering what little possessions she owned and throwing them into her piece of junk car, then she sped off towards this little piece of heaven masquerading as a town. Although she still couldn't comprehend why, she was compelled to, and seeing as she had up until recently been void of all feeling, she had decided to follow her gut instinct.

So here she was, sitting in her rusted hunk of junk, otherwise known as a car, outside his house. Smiling cynically, she marvelled at it. Everything it should be, it was just how she'd pictured it would be. A wrap around veranda, picture windows and a white picket fence, there was a swing hanging on the front porch. He even lived with his father, the epitome of a small town boy. Well rooted, proud lineage, everything she didn't have…everything she wanted the child steadily growing in her womb to have.

Only once before had she looked upon this house, five or so months ago, a week before she'd shown up on her present husband's doorstep. It was the one moment of weakness that had set of a chain reaction of weakness; at least it was in her mind. She'd sat here, in this very car, watching the rain drip down the windshield, convinced as she was now that she was the embodiment of a perpetual rain dance, attempting to gain enough courage to get herself out of this god forsaken junk heap and ring the doorbell. She couldn't do it then and she was even less sure now. While she knew he had the right to know that in approximately three months he was going to be a father, she was not willing to risk his breaking her heart above all else. She'd spent hours trying to rationalise the best way to approach this, but her own doubts and inability to deal with yet another man walking all over her heart had always won out. Frank Burns, Donald Penobscot, Scully, endless generals and army men…each of which she had thought particularly special at one time or another, but all proved to be a waste of time. She could not, would not, let him turn out to be just another nick in her heart and she refused to be regarded as another notch on his belt, a prominent one, but a notch nonetheless.

Taking a deep breath she opened the car door; one step at a time, this was much further then she had gotten previously. With each plodding step she wished she could take two back. His door loomed ahead of her, an ominous reminder that just behind the veneered wood resided her greatest fear. Once again doubts surfaced in her mind, dread that he would turn her away in disgust, he would refuse to recognise her and the baby. Then there were the fears that he wouldn't turn her away, he would take her in, being a relationship with her, but only out of guilt. She did not want to be an obligation; she loved him, she didn't want for him to hate her and, subsequently, the child. Each step echoed through her head, like the beat of a bass drum. Swallowing she found herself standing at the front door faster then she would've liked. Raising a hand she knocked three times, each sounding louder then the last. Her heart slammed against her chest as she waited, causing her head to throb and all other sounds to obliterated as a result. Rain plastered her hair to her face and her clothes to her skin. She could feel the droplets running down her shoulders blades and mixing with the cold sweat that had broken out despite the chilly weather.

After what seemed like double a lifetime, she heard foot steps approaching from inside. Taking a deep breath, she braced herself. The door creaked open slowly and a sliver of light slowly grew to reveal him. Her heart stopped for a beat; she had forgotten how handsome he was. His charcoal hair, with one or two more grey hairs then she had remembered, his customary smile, which vanished from his face when he recognised her. "Margaret?" he choked out, a look of complete shock etched on his features. "Hello" she breathed. That was all it took and that customary smile spread across his face. One thought, and one thought only, crossed her mind; her memory had not done his eyes justice. Those velvety blue that could not be described in words, those eyes that lit up a room and caused her heart to flutter. She was struck dumb again and just stood there before him. "Margaret, what a pleasure it is to see you. Do you want to come in?" he asked awkwardly and she couldn't help but smile. Here he was, the man she had wished for years would just shut up, unsure of what to say. He had always been at ease, almost the embodiment of a smooth, dry martini, his favourite drink. Shaking her head she looked at her feet, "Margaret, what is it?" he asked. Slowly she levelled her gaze with his, it was now or never, "Hawkeye, I'm pregnant." Time stopped…..

Sorry my lovelies for two things. Firstly: For taking this long to update, I've been busy and had a slight writer's block, wherein I had no idea how to continue this story. Secondly: For leaving you hanging like that. So tell me what you think, come on press that little purple button and review, review, review.