This is my first story. I do not own anyone but Elizabeth Houlihan and Micheal Robertson.
Summary: Margret's sister is killed at the 5025th MASH. Who will Margret turn to for comfort?
Rating: T
Pairing: Who else? Hawkeye/Margret
Prologue
The air in the 4077th MASH was tense. No wounded, no shelling, nothing. No sign that the war even existed apart from the sickly green fatigues. It was a Saturday, sometime in 1953, and most of the camp's inhabitants were mildewing around, committing acts of lunacy on each other. For example, a Captain BJ Hunnicut had just finished running Charles Emerson Winchester the Third's underwear up the camp flagpole. Yes, all was normal.
But little did these people know, fifteen miles to the east of them, was another unit. A unit under heavy shelling. The 5025th. Bombs were quickly destroying the camp, leaving half of a tent strewn across the compound. The staff of the unit were huddled together – a hundred people tightly squeezed like oranges into a small mess tent. Prayer was common here, as well as the five stages of grief. It's funny, how these stages are there for the grieving of loved one's lives, and here, these people were bargaining for their own lives. War seemed to do that; twist around the meant-to be into an impossible web of pain, lies and intolerable sickness.
A bomb exploded outside the mess tent, sending a shrill little whine to the souls of the prey, as if to roar; 'you're no match for me, I'll get you eventually.' Everyone thought this was the moment they would die. Some thought of family. Others, just a blank abyss. But Captain Elizabeth Houlihan was considering the military tactics of such shelling. Surely, the army wouldn't be so dumb as to let us die. They must be using nugatory tactics right now. She had grown up an army brat with her two sisters, one a major, the other a first lieutenant in the states. Lucky bitch, she was, not to be assigned Korea. So she was not afraid of a little shelling. Well, deep down she was terrified. But she was a Houlihan – a family name notorious for courage and military strategies. Seven generations of Houlihan had been army brats, strong and leaders. Elizabeth would be no exception.
Elizabeth was thinking about how to go about getting supplies from post-op. She had seen the wounded; they needed a bucket load of penicillin, bandages and such materials in there. And she knew she would be the one to get them. She had to be strong, for the rest of the unit who couldn't. With that, she stormed over to Major Michael Robertson, the camp Commanding Officer.
'Sir, request permission to get supplies from post-op'. She stood strong; giving what she knew was intimidating glare.
But her CO was not about to let her go out and get herself killed, he knew he couldn't risk it. But he also knew Elizabeth Houlihan. And he knew she would just go anyway, for the good of the unit. Humph! Those Houlihan's, always doing the stupid thing! So he gave her his approval, and the strong captain traipsed into the compound, hiding between trash cans and dodging the shells. Well, not all of them.
As she was stood behind post-op, right near the door, a bomb dropped, exploding at her feet. She was gone.