"Vascular clamp, Margaret."
"Vascular clamp."
"Scalpel."
"Scalpel."
"Well, that should about do it." Captain Hawkeye Pierce wiped the sweat from his brow, and looked down at the boy on the operating table. It had been touch and go for a long time, and he'd definitely had to improvise, but the surgery was over. Hawkeye smiled. "You're okay, kid," he whispered to his patient's unconscious form. "You're gonna be okay."
Across the table, Margaret Houlihan couldn't help but grin. She loved it when he was like that. Hawkeye was the most compassionate man she had ever known, and he cared so deeply about the soldiers he operated on. This particular young man had been shot full of shrapnel, and the difficult procedure they'd just gone through to save him had lasted hours. Finally it was all over, and seeing that relieved smile on the surgeon's face made Margaret feel fabulous, regardless of how tired she was.
"Margaret? Oh, Margaret?" It was Hawkeye's voice. She looked up and realized that nearly everyone in the OR was staring at her. She hadn't been standing there grinning like a fool for too long, had she?
"That's one hell of a smile, Major," Hawkeye continued. "Beautiful, really." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You wouldn't mind looking at me like that all the time, would you?"
"Ooh, Margaret," Major Charles Winchester chortled from across the room. "What have you got to say to that?" Everyone looked at her expectantly, waiting for a reply.
Margaret felt her cheeks flush. She didn't say anything.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Winchester announced, "I do believe Major Houlihan is blushing."
Margaret's cheeks burned even hotter. Hawkeye's passes at her were certainly nothing new, but she was usually quick to fire back a retort. Back when they'd first come to Korea, she'd been genuinely annoyed every time he'd said something like that. But now... she'd recently come to realize that she actually liked it when he flattered her. She still shot back at him most of the time because that was what everyone expected, but she didn't mean it anymore.
And today? she thought. Oh God. Today she had forgotten to pretend.
The look on Margaret's face told Hawkeye that something was wrong. She was flustered, he thought, really flustered! He had only meant to tease her a little, but now she was standing there, helpless, as everyone laughed in her face. And he couldn't take that.
"Shut up, Charles," Hawkeye snapped. "Just leave her alone."
Winchester turned to the captain in surprise. Hawkeye glared at him.
"Oh, I see," Charles said flatly. He smirked. "I didn't know you two were-"
Hawkeye didn't let him finish. "I thought I told you to shut up!"
"Boys, boys!" Colonel Potter strode into the OR with his hands on his hips. "I heard you shouting, Pierce. What's going on?"
"Nothing, sir." Margaret walked over to the colonel. She had stood there, silent and shocked, as Hawkeye defended her, but now that Potter was getting involved, it was time to step in again.
The colonel sighed. "All right, Major, if you say so." He gave her a puzzled look. "Everybody back to work."
The afternoon came and went, and Margaret grew more and more uncomfortable with each passing hour. The tension in the room was immeasurably high. Charles was brooding and sending Hawkeye the occasional deadly glance; the nurses seemed afraid to talk to her; and Hawkeye? Margaret wished desperately that she could know what was going through his mind. He hadn't said a word to her since... well, since he'd teased her about her smile, actually. She wanted to talk to him, to say... she didn't know what. To thank him, maybe, for sticking up for her. All though, she thought angrily, Margaret Houlihan didn't need people to stick up for her. Margaret Houlihan didn't need anybody. Certainly not him.
It was 8 o' clock that evening when she finally pulled off her surgical gloves. The end of a long, crummy day, she thought wearily. The end. Thank God.
She wanted to run from the OR, to run past the Swamp, past the mess tent, and all the way back to her door. She would curl up in bed in her bathrobe, and come up with something to tell Hawkeye when she had to see him the next day; had she really been flattered by his compliment? No, of course not! How could he possibly think...? Ha! Impossible! It would be so easy to brush him off, she thought, and then just forget the whole thing. And she would've done exactly that... if Hawkeye hadn't stopped her in the doorway.
"Margaret," he whispered. She made her way toward the door, pretending not to hear him.
"Margaret." He said it again, louder this time. She still didn't turn around.
"Damn it, Margaret, look at me!"
As much as she wanted to run, she couldn't just leave him standing there. Clenching her fists, she turned to face him.
"What, Pierce?" Ruefully, Margaret realized that her voice sounded desperate. She had meant to sound confidant, maybe a little annoyed. Anything but desperate.
"What happened today?"
"I don't know what you're talking about." Good, she had sounded much stronger this time.
"The hell you don't." Hawkeye walked slowly toward her, and looked her straight in the eyes. She tried to back away, but he put his hands on her shoulders. "I've never seen you embarrassed like that before."
"I wasn't embarrassed." She could feel her cheeks starting to burn again. Very convincing, she thought dryly, I certainly don't look embarrassed now.
"You were flattered, weren't you? I told you you were beautiful and you didn't try to shut me up. You liked it."
"I didn't! I just didn't feel like yelling at you. I was tired, that's all."
Hawkeye sighed. "Margaret, I meant it when I said you were beautiful. You are. I... I wasn't joking." His eyes were full of longing, and she realized, in astonishment, that he was telling the truth. She wanted so badly to be honest with him, too, to say that she really had been flattered, that she loved it when he said things like that. But she couldn't.
"I... oh... shut up, Hawkeye!" She broke from his grip and ran out of the room.
Margaret tried to forget everything that night. She tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate. She tried to sleep, but every time she closed her eyes she could see him there, the way she'd left him, standing in the doorway. Why couldn't she have just told him the truth? It wouldn't have been so hard. Yes, yes it would, she told herself, but she didn't really believe it. What was the matter with her, anyway? Hawkeye was her friend, maybe even a little more than that. And she couldn't be honest with him? No, she thought sadly, guess not.
Margaret sighed, and buried her face in her hands. It was going to be a long night.