Title: The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan
Description: Set six weeks after "Comrades in Arms," Margaret discovers some unsettling news. As she and Hawkeye come to terms with their actions, they learn that some things do not go according to plan.
Timeline: Six-weeks after "Comrades in Arms"
02:00
Captain Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce fought to keep his eyes open. "Suture," he said as one of the nurses dabbed his brow with a towel.
No answer.
"Major Houlihan?" He looked across the table. Major Margaret Houlihan was staring at the equipment, unblinking. Hawkeye wondered at first if she was having some type of absence seizure. The woman was known for many things and drifting off to la-la-land mid-surgery was not one of them. He squinted through the early morning OR haze at her pupils. Equal, round, reactive, he thought.
Hawkeye waited a beat, until, "Margaret?"
She startled. "Sorry, Doctor." Momentarily fumbling, she clipped the 2-0 catgut with a pair of hemostats and handed it to him handle first.
He eyed her suspiciously. From somewhere behind him, he could hear BJ Hunnicutt and Colonel Potter vigorously humming some unnamed fight song, probably in a last ditch effort to stay awake in the 29th hour of surgery. "You okay?" he asked Margaret, "you're liable to burn a hole in the sterile field if you look at those pick-ups any harder."
"What are you babbling about?"
"I swear you didn't blink for a whole five minutes."
"Would you worry less about my blinking and more about closing this patient so we can go to bed?" She held the suture material up as he threw his last stitch and handed him scissors with her free hand.
"That sounds like an invitation." He finished his square knot and snipped the suture.
Margaret opened her mouth to retort, but was cut off by BJ.
"You walked right into that one, Major." He pulled his mask down and grinned across the table at Hawkeye. "I'm finished. Who else wants to join Major Houlihan in bed?"
"Enough, all of you!" Colonel Potter snapped off his gloves and motioned for Corporal Klinger to carry his patient to post-op. "We're all running low on fuel after 29 straight hours of wounded. Everyone needs to get cleaned up and hit the hay."
"Colonel, I was just—." Hawkeye started.
"Hawkeye, I don't give a rat's ass what you were just about to say," Potter said, "To bed! And that's an order." He got halfway across the OR before adding, "ALONE!"
Twenty minutes later, Margaret stepped outside of the OR tent and took a deep breath. The air was warm and a cool night breeze kissed her bare arms as she made her way toward her tent.
"Margaret?"
She pretended not to hear, concentrating instead on how many steps were between her and the door. Once safely there, she would be able to put one more day behind her. Only a few more feet…
"Margaret, will you hold on a second?" Hawkeye's voice was insistent and he sounded winded; his feet jogging softly toward her. "I don't think I've seen someone walk that fast since I accidently lit Dorothy Grable's pants on fire in the third grade." A few seconds later, he was standing between her and the door to her tent. "What's going on?" His surgical hat was gone, but his mask hung loosely around his neck and he was still wearing his scrub bottoms.
Looking at his lean form, something inside of her stirred. Pushing it back down, Margaret rolled her eyes and moved past him, "I am following orders, Captain," she said brusquely. "Colonel Potter said bed, and that's what I am doing." She stepped through the door, followed closely by Pierce, who was not giving up so easily. Putting her hand on her hip, she turned to face him. "And I suggest you do the same."
"I suggest you tell me what's bothering you before you implode," he replied, taking a seat at the boudoir table and tapping his fingers on the wood.
"Nothing is bothering me except you, Pierce."
"I just don't believe that," he said with a shake of his head.
"And why the hell not?"
"Your eyes."
"My… what?"
"Your eyes give it all away, Margaret." He crossed his legs at the ankles and leaned forward. "I'll have you know that I have spent an extraordinary amount of time looking at people's eyes above their surgical masks and I am now an expert at deciphering emotions based solely on whether the eyes are smiling or not."
Margaret let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding. "And what do mine say?"
Hawkeye's expression changed. He was quiet for a minute, before, "They're scared."
"You're full of it." She turned away and crossed her arms, absent-mindedly rubbing at the goose bumps that had suddenly appeared.
"Margaret," he said softly, "tell me."
She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wiped it away with the back of her hand. "I think…" she choked on her words, unable to finish.
"You think too-."
"I think I might be pregnant."
Silence.
"It hasn't been that time of the month since… before last month." She let out a breath and after a few more seconds, turned back toward Hawkeye, who was looking at her with a perplexed expression.
"But that's wonderful," he said after a beat, "You'll have little Penobscott's running around… the pitter patter of little Lieutenant General feet."
She swallowed and looked down at her wedding ring, spinning it with a finger. When she had realized that her monthly… gift was two weeks late, it didn't take long to figure out what had happened. They had been alone for hours in that abandoned hut—scared, wounded, unsure if they'd make it out alive. Neither she or Pierce had given any thought to what came next until… what came next. They survived, made it back to the 4077, and had managed to become unlikely friends. But this….
"Major…"
She looked up. Her cheeks were wet. She didn't realize she was crying. Margaret cleared her throat and took another breath, staring into his blue eyes. "I haven't been on R&R with Donald in sixteen weeks, Captain."
His eyes were saucers. "How…"
"You have a medical degree, Pierce," she said, cutting him off, "I don't need to explain how this happens." The expression on his face softened her, and she added, "Neither one of us was thinking. It's not completely your fault."
"I think I need to sit down."
"You are sitting down," she said.
"I think I need to lie down."
Margaret grabbed him as he stood suddenly, swaying. He dragged a hand down his jaw and steadied himself on her shoulder. "I think…" he started to say. "I think 29 hours in surgery is too long. I think I can't think anymore." He pulled at the surgical mask still tied around his neck. "This thing is choking me."
She reached around to the back of his neck and undid the strings.
"Major, that is how we got into this mess!" Hawkeye leapt backward.
"I was just taking your mask off, Captain," she spat.
"First the mask, then the clothes," he raked a hand through his hair, "but we don't have to worry about that now, because you're already preg-." He stopped mid-rant and turned back to face her. "Pregnant," he finished.
She met his eyes and nodded.
To be continued...
This is my first fanfic in a long time and my first M*A*S*H story. Let me know what you think!