AN: Henry Blake was my favourite character, and I was so sad when he died. Here's a little piece I wrote to honour him. (Also, I should be studying for my French exam tomorrow, but nah. MASH fanfiction is more important!) Enjoy!
xXx
The wind was wild that night. It howled, cold and unforgiving, through the camp. Margaret Houlihan had been sleeping peacefully in her tent when she was awoken abruptly by the fact that she could hear her name. It was a whisper, but a strong, urgent one. She opened her eyes. Just as they were adjusting to the lack of light, she felt a pair of hands grasp one of her arms and start shaking her.
Alarms went off in her head. "Who's there!?" she asked shrilly, sitting up straight and turning on her lamp.
Her so-called 'attacker' shied away from the sudden light, shielding his eyes. "Ahh! Margaret, stop, stop, turn that off!"
"Captain Pierce!?" she gasped, half incredulous and half relieved. "You creep! What are you doing in my tent?" At least he isn't the enemy, she thought. She turned off the light. There was just enough moonlight spilling in from outside that she could see him. He looked… different. There was no goofy grin on his face, no childlike joy in his piercing blue eyes. In fact, he looked upset. A twinge of concern sparked inside of Margaret.
"I… I'm sorry." Hawkeye said quietly. "I just needed to talk to you."
"Can't it wait until morning?" she inquired, exasperated, but then caught herself. Judging from the look of him, it couldn't. She quickly added, "I'm sorry, Captain. We can talk now. What is it?"
Hawkeye sat down on the edge of her bed. "I just… I just had a dream." he recounted. "About Henry."
For Margaret, it felt like someone had punched her in the stomach, winding her. It had been almost a year since Henry Blake's death, yet hearing Hawkeye say his name so quietly and painfully was like someone rubbing salt into an old wound. "What kind of dream?" she asked gingerly.
"I was in the Swamp with him." Hawkeye began. "We were having a great time, laughing and drinking together. Then suddenly, he got all… melancholy. I asked him what was wrong, and all he said was, 'I was going home, Pierce. I was going to see my family'. Then there was a loud crash from outside, and Henry wasn't there anymore. So I ran outside and saw smoke rising in the distance, from not so far away. I went out there, and I found one of the choppers on the ground. It was busted. There was fire everywhere. And Henry… good old Henry Blake was…"
His voice cracked then, and he trailed off, wiping his eyes on the edge of his sleeve. He had Margaret in tears, too. Adjusting to having Colonel Potter around hadn't been hard at all, and he was more the Commanding Officer she'd wanted, but that didn't stop her from missing Henry fiercely from time to time. After all, he'd been her friend. She had respected him, and she would for years, even now that he was gone. Besides, his death had been completely unfair. Just as Hawkeye had said, Henry had been going home when his plane had gone down.
"I had to talk to you, Margaret." Hawkeye went on, sounding choked up. "I had to talk to someone. But BJ, he didn't know Henry… and I just can't bring myself to talk about Henry with Radar…"
"It's okay." murmured Margaret. She wrapped her arms around him, and pulled him in for a hug. "I miss him too."
His body shook with silent sobs. Margaret squeezed him tightly, as tears ran down her own cheeks. She could still remember Radar's face, as white as a sheet, as he'd entered the O.R. with news she would never forget. She remembered crying before he had even finished, and Hawkeye, who had been crying too and not bothering to hide it. Hawkeye wasn't often emotional, but when he was, he felt no shame in showing it. That was something Margaret had always admired about him.
Crying made her sleepy. Before she knew it, her eyes were drooping and she was curled up in her bed again. He was lying next to her, snoring softly. She let herself fall back asleep, comforted by the feel of him beside her.
xXx
"Good morning, Margaret."
Margaret looked up from her dull food to see Hawkeye standing over her, holding his own tray. He smiled at her, and for a moment she could still remember the warmth of his body next to hers.
"Good morning, Captain."
"Mind if I sit here?" he asked.
"Of course not."
He sat down. "Thanks. Is the food any good today?"
"No better than usual." she responded as she stirred sugar into her coffee.
"So, repulsive then?"
She smiled back. "Yes, that's right."
Hawkeye laughed softly as he scooped up some of the eggs. "Listen," he began after a few moments. "I want to thank you, for last night. I was just feeling really emotional, y'know? It won't happen again."
"Don't apologize." said Margaret. "I miss Henry too. What happened to him wasn't fair, and we all deserve a chance to let it out sometimes. I'm just glad I was there to be with you, Captain Pierce."
"I'm glad you were there, too."
After a few seconds, Margaret broke the silence. "To Henry." she announced, raising her mug of coffee.
Hawkeye beamed widely, all over his warm face. "Hear, hear." he replied, raising his own mug. "To Henry."
To Margaret's surprise, the words "To Henry" continued to echo all around them. Various other people were raising their mugs. She noticed Radar, and Klinger too. Even Frank raised his mug. Joy spread through her, like warm water washing over her body. She brought her mug to her lips and sipped it. Countless others followed her example, including Hawkeye.
"I think he would've liked this." she said.
"Oh yeah, definitely." Hawkeye responded, still grinning. "And I think if the old coot visits me in my dreams again, he'll have nothing but nice things to say to me."
"I hope so." Margaret nodded. "Cheers."
"Cheers." he repeated. Their mugs clinked together. And in that moment, Margaret could almost see Henry sitting beside them at the table, pouring golden alcohol into his coffee cup and grinning like an idiot. It was a comforting thought.
end