The Margaret Mystique, a m*a*s*h fanfic

Author's Note: This was originally written for the 2009 Yuletide fic exchange and uploaded to the "Archive of their own" site. Written for eponymous_rose who gave me the following prompt:

I'd love a fic that adds more depth to Margaret's character - either by expanding on some element of her back-story the series mentioned in passing, or by creating new elements to explore. Het and femslash would be great, but I'm most interested in the development of Margaret as a character in her own right - as well as any obstacles along the way. Post-war fic would certainly be welcome, as would something that slotted neatly into canon - if you're feeling creative, AUs and crossovers would also be neat!

It took me a while to find this plot. I struggled with various episodes and thoughts about possible missing scenes when it came to me (with the help of a friend) that perhaps a reflection of Margaret's complicated relationship with some of the men in her life might fit the bill. (I confess this became more fixed on her relationship with Hawkeye than I had originally planned but I hope that's okay for my recipient!)

Prologue:

The problem lay buried, unspoken, for many years in the minds of American women. It was a strange stirring, a sense of dissatisfaction, a yearning that women suffered in the middle of the twentieth century in the United States. Each suburban wife struggled with it alone. As she made the beds, shopped for groceries, matched slipcover material, ate peanut butter sandwiches with her children, chauffeured Cub Scouts and Brownies, lay beside her husband at night-she was afraid to ask even of herself the silent question-"Is this all?"

~The Feminine Mystique (Betty Freidan)

July 27, 1963

"And on this day 10 years ago the Armistice was signed allowing for a pause in the Korean conflict - a pause that continues to this day. The Korean peninsula was divided as a geopolitical legacy-"

Ten years... Fingering her copy of the book that seemed to be making headlines all over the country, Margaret pulled herself away from the latest chapter to watch the images on the television as the memories washed over her.

Hard to believe it had been ten years since they all said goodbye. In some ways it felt like a much longer time and yet in others it seemed as if it was only yesterday. So often she had wondered how the men and women she had served with were doing and where they all ended up.

Was BJ still living in Mill Valley with his wife and daughter? Was he enjoying his practice and were there more children in the Hunnicutt household?

Glancing back at her book she pondered Peg Hunnicutt, BJ's wife. There were times back during the war when she wished could have met the woman BJ had been so devoted to. To have a man love her like that...

"Wonder what that's like?" she asked herself, wryly.

Was Hawkeye still living in Crabapple Cove or had he moved on to a big city hospital as he sometimes talked about doing? Wonder if he's married? Nah, probably not. Somehow the thought of the world's most committed bachelor getting married was just too foreign for her to believe.

What about Radar O'Reilly? It surprised her somewhat that he was third on her list of curiosities. She and O'Reilly had never been close but she had been fond of the boy. He certainly had proved himself to be a hard worker and an all-around sweet kid, really.

Bet he found himself a nice girl and settled down on the farm, she thought.

Who else? She brushed away a small tear in acknowledgment that the kindest man she had ever known, Colonel Sherman T. Potter, had passed on the previous year. In some ways he had been like a father to her and she had grown to love him very much. Potter was the only one she had kept in touch with, though letters were few and far between. His wife had sent her a telegram the day he had died and she had sent flowers in return. So very sad - they had lived so many years apart and yet their love and devotion to each other only grew stronger...

Pushing off the sadness her thoughts returned to the other members of the 4077th.

Charles was most likely still living in Boston's upper crust society and had probably married someone he considered to be of 'fine standing.' Then there was Klinger and Soon Lee. Margaret smiled at the memory of their wedding. If someone had told her Klinger of all people would end up staying in Korea she never would have believed it. 'Hope they were able to find Soon Lee's family,' she mused.

It then occurred to her that she had been mostly pondering the marriages and potential marriages of her former colleagues. Why was that?

Probably because she had just ended another relationship... On that thought she set the book down, walked over to the television, shut it off and grabbed a pen.

July 27, 1963

Hello Hawkeye,

As it's been such a long time (ten years — can you believe it?) I imagine you're wondering why I'm writing to you after so long. Or perhaps even better why it took me so long to actually write to you in the first place. It's certainly not that I haven't thought of you from time to time — and not only when someone annoyed me! (No, really!)

In truth, it's a bit of a surprise to me as well. As today is the 10th anniversary of the Armistice (a fact that sort of astounds me - where does the time go?) I've found my thoughts have returned to the 4077th. Actually, if I'm going to be honest they've returned there more than I care to admit recently.

So, Hawkeye, how are you doing these days? Still getting Crabapple Cove to say 'Aah'? Or did you eventually find yourself in the big city somewhere as you once thought you would? I only have your father's address in Maine so I hope this reaches you wherever you are.

Did you ever find the right woman and get married or are you still making that old joke about someone getting you pregnant before you'd settle down? Whatever you're doing, I hope you've found happiness.

As for me, in case you're wondering, I'll fill you in on my life. You may have noticed from the address I'm no longer in the Army. These days Major Margaret Houlihan is civilian Margaret Houlihan, an adjustment that did take some time, I admit. Even now I have to refrain from sending orders to strangers and expecting them to jump.

(As I write I am imagining you smirking as you read that last bit but it really is the truth. I was so used to being in charge it was quite the change.)

Not that I don't enjoy civilian life. I actually do like it quite a bit. I'm happy to report that I'm still in charge of my career. I'm working as the head nurse of a small hospital in Salinas, California - near Fort Ord. So I do still have my fair share of barking orders at people!

I've been thinking a lot about you and I realize that – in a strange way I can't quite explain or even decipher myself – I owe you a debt of gratitude; thus the letter. Even though I know Korea is miles away I still find myself imagining you reading this with your feet propped up on your cot as you raise your eyebrows and (loudly) ponder to BJ what I could possibly mean by that.

Truth is I've been thinking a lot about my relationships with men. Ah, I see you with that lecherous grin of yours and I'm here to tell you right now to wipe that off your face and treat me with respect. I can still wipe the floor with you, Pierce! Now, isn't that better? (Interesting to me how my brain falls right back into the groove as if I'm also sitting in the Swamp, drinking some of that horrid liquid you called gin and yelling at you. I guess some things never do change, do they?)

I've recently ended a three year relationship and while I'll spare you the hows and whys of the break up (not to mention how we got together in the first place) I've found myself remembering how comforting your friendship was for me when I divorced Donald and then later ended things with Scully.

My life has never been what one would call traditional. I only married once, have had several lovers (including one night with you), and a three-year live-in relationship that never actually became a marriage. I find myself wondering if I should be sad about that or perhaps feel enlightened.

Have you heard of this book, The Feminine Mystique? One of my nurses mentioned it and since I've begun reading it I've been mulling over my career and my relationships with men. Freidan speculates that a lot of women are unhappy with their marriages, and while I don't agree with everything she writes, I find I do resonate with some of it even though I'm not married.

I suppose with the combination of this new read and my recent break up I guess you could say I'm thinking a lot about some of the things I learned at the 4077th and I don't mean in terms of nursing.

Well. I'm really rambling, aren't I?

Margaret put her pen down and stared at the page. Where on earth was she going with this anyway? Certainly after all this time Hawkeye wouldn't need to read all of this, would he? Would he really want to read the ponderings of someone he hadn't spoken to in ten years? Although he had always been a good listener when he was serious enough to actually listen. Granted, there were times she had to yell at him to get him to listen but once he did he often had good advice and a way of looking at a situation that had not occurred to her. Then there was the fact that Pierce was a known womanizer and here she was discussing women's issues with him?

Then again, she had never backed down from telling him what was what, had she?

In so many ways they had been a surrogate family, each slowly (and some not so slowly) growing to lean on each other in such demanding conditions. Hawkeye was certainly someone she would have never guessed would have become a friend when she first met him...

Vignette One: Hawkeye

If there was anything Margaret Houlihan hated it was hypocrisy, and it was especially galling when that hypocrisy staring her in the face was her own.

"Dear Darlene..." the letter from her husband had read. She picked it up and read it once more. When she first received it she could barely grasp that it had been real. She had known for a while that Donald had at least been... flirting... with other women, if the nurse who showed up complaining of a 'Donald Dimwit' who kept trying to lick her fingers was any indication. But this letter was solid proof of much more than simple flirtation.

Coupled with that was the fact that she received the letter while about to head off to the 8066 with Captain Pierce and his constant state of perverse... loudness... It made for a rather grumpy Major Houlihan.

But that wasn't what Margaret was focusing on right now as her eyes scanned the contents of what she was now calling "the Darlene Letter" in her mind. No, that was maddening enough, but what really bothered her the most was what had happened after that day.

Sex with Pierce. She closed her eyes for a moment, placing the letter on her desk and running her hands through her hair. How had that happened? How? Not only had it happened but she enjoyed it. Reveled in it, actually. Her mind wandered to that old abandoned hut where they took safety from the war. They had been lost, behind enemy lines, and night was approaching. The hut seemed a logical choice to hide out for the night. Then the shelling started and two scared and lonely people turned to each other; taking comfort in the most carnal and corporeal of ways.

Dammit! She had just wanted it to mean something. Was that so wrong? Evidently to Pierce it was. Didn't he understand? She had cheated on her husband! It had to mean something, for how else could she justify that? Especially after finding out her own husband had cheated on her and under much less stressful situations. But Pierce seemed to have other ideas.

"Just another notch on his belt..." She muttered to herself. "The cretin. Didn't even have the decency to tell me, just made me look like a fool in front of the whole camp..."

Well, fine. If it meant nothing to him then it would mean nothing to her as well. After all she had her pride, didn't she? She was Major Margaret Houlihan, head nurse (and a damn good one!) and an officer in This Man's Army! She certainly did not need the justification of someone like Pierce to give her worth!

Damn straight!

Now for the letter... With sudden determination she stood up and scrounged in her duffle bag for a pen. Taking paper from her desk, she started to write.

"Dear Cheating Husband..."

No. That would never do. Just as she couldn't let Pierce get the best of her, she wouldn't let Donald do it either. Much as she loved him and as much as his letter to this... Darlene... pained her, she couldn't let him get the upper hand. She had to let him know in no uncertain terms that she knew what had happened and find a way to hurt him as much as she was hurt.

"What do you usually tell him?" Pierce's words came back to her and she frowned. Leave it to Pierce to say something so careless and cruel. The vows she made to Donald were important to her, made in seriousness; not something to be taken lightly. Correction, she thought to herself. You took those vows seriously - until the other night.

Her mind screamed with the sudden memory of Pierce's... Hawkeye's... hands on the small of her back as they made their way down to the front of her army fatigues, the feel of his mouth on her...

"Damn it!" This time she swore out loud. Why was this so hard to let go? Because you did enjoy it, the voice in her head answered. She had felt things with Pierce she hadn't felt in a long time. The words he said, the things he did - no man had ever done... that... with any kind of enthusiasm for her before. Most of the generals she had had flings with didn't seem interested. Donald always acted as if it was a chore and Frank had once told her "you're not the easiest woman in the world to exhilarate." The one time she thought he might be willing to try was also the time he had called her 'Louise' and thus she kicked him out before getting anything for herself. But Pierce... Hawkeye...

Well. If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she had to admit the times she had wondered what he would be like as a lover she dismissed the thought by quickly assuring herself he would be quite selfish, take what he needed, and be done. The thought alone was enough to take her mind off her occasional attraction and move on.

But then how could the other night when she had never felt so... satisfied... be easily ignored? And wasn't that the crux of the problem? It wasn't just that she had been unfaithful but that she had felt something while doing it? Not only that but she had... exposed... a part of herself that had never been exposed to a man before? Not just physically but emotionally as well. After all she had had plenty of past lovers but in her experience sex was best enjoyed with a certain amount of emotional detachment. Until the other night, that is. But she wouldn't have done it, wouldn't have even allowed it if she hadn't been so afraid of dying that night...

Stop thinking about it! she chastised herself. Put it out of your mind and pretend it never happened. After all - Pierce has.

That last thought gave her the resolve to get back to the task at hand. Continue with the letter to Donald and take stock of her marriage. Pierce had it easier than she did - he had the luxury of not have indiscretions of any sort affect him. She, on the other hand, was a married woman.

But that was all right, wasn't it? Wasn't that the life she signed up for when she followed the footsteps of her father and joined the Army? She didn't need anyone, not really. She could solve this on her own and so she put the pen down and stood up. Stretching her arms out she walked to the door and started to open it. Perhaps with a cup of coffee...

Dejected, she sat back on her cot and sighed. She could hear the sounds of the off-duty staff laughing and making lewd comments with each other about going to Rosie's bar and making 'friends' for the night. "Perverts." She muttered to herself.

Why is everything about sex anyway? Couldn't just once something be about something else? Take the night with Pierce - why couldn't it be more than that? Why... couldn't a man and woman have sexual relations and yet maintain a sense of respect? Friendship even?

That was it! She knew what she'd write to Donald...

"Dear Hank,

I'll never forget that night in that abandoned hut. You gave me your warmth and your caring when I was afraid, and now I think from time to time when I'm afraid again I may have the courage to let another person know it. You've helped me to grow a little.

Thank you, Hank.

July 27, 1963

Margaret smiled at the memory of her discussion with Hawkeye when he arrived at her tent shortly after her finishing the letter to 'Hank'. She had tried to deny anything had happened out of pride but realized she couldn't do that to him let alone herself.

Sometimes life throws us surprises, she mused. Hawkeye turned out to be a good friend...

Unlike a few other men she could name... Frank Burns. Donald Penobscot. Jack Scully...

Jack Scully. Now there was a blast from the past. Strange that her mind barely even registered Frank and Donald, but Scully...

She supposed in some way she had made her peace with Frank and Donald a long time ago. There was a certain cyclical aspect regarding her feelings for both of them. Frank was a married man when she met him and she had been the 'other woman'. Then she left Frank to marry Donald who eventually found someone else to make the 'other woman,' or women as the case may have been. She went over it time and time again until she realized the pain had dulled, leaving her with only lessons learned.

Scully though...

Vignette Two: Scully

"Margaret, if I were an officer, I'd have to hang around with them. I don't like officers," he had said.

"I'm an officer, she reminded him.

"Oh," he had scoffed. "That's not the same. You're a nurse. That's an honorary thing. So you can boss around a bunch of nurses but not men. Not real soldiers-"

"Is that so?" Anger had flared up within her. How dare he?

"Well let me tell you something, soldier. I'm damn proud of these," gesturing to the gold leaves on her collar she continued, "nobody gave them to me, I earned them and I'm just as much a major as any other major. You'll notice these leaves come in gold. Not pink for girls and blue for boys!"

Absently rubbing her eyes, Margaret remembered the conversation didn't last much longer and he had left. Shortly after she had gone to Klinger asking if he had a dress she could borrow. She completely changed herself and for what?

A man who didn't appreciate it anyway, that's what.

"What's the matter?" Scully asked.

"I thought if I changed myself for you it would make some kind of an impression." She didn't look at him as she poured wine back into the bottle.

"It does, I love it! Come here."

"I dress myself up in this costume for you and all you want is more!" She glanced down at the dress before looking back up at him. "No recognition that I've done anything special to please you. You take it for granted that everything you want is yours. What about what I want?"

"Huh," he responded. "I've gotten used to giving orders. I guess deep down I'm really a sergeant."

"What do you suppose I am deep down?"

"Deep, deep down? A woman." He nodded slightly in confirmation.

"Go a little deeper," she pressed.

"A major," he conceded.

"I'm me." she corrected him. "Sometimes a nurse, sometimes a major, sometimes a woman in love and sometimes all three at once."

"Sounds like it's crowded in there."

"And sometimes it's lonely in there."

"I'm not sure I can handle a cast of thousands, Margaret. I'm used to a simple chain of command." Scully concluded. "With me in command."

"And me in chains," she replied with a wry, somewhat sad smile.

After he had left she had gone into the officer's club for a drink. Pierce had been in there and they ended up discussing her wishes for her next (and hopefully last) relationship.

"I've got the only heart in Korea with a revolving door! Well, no more, Buddy-O! From now on, I check them first to make sure they meet the minimum standard requirements!" She took a swig of her beer and nodded to herself firmly.

"And what are they?" Pierce had asked.

"Twenty percent my father, ten percent Scully," Tilting her head and moving the beer in her hands she continued, "About ten percent of you-"

"Oh, thank you." He grinned in surprise.

"-Three percent of Frank Burns, and two percent of my ex husband."

"Mhm," he acknowledged.

"No." She finished. "One percent of my ex husband."

"Ah." Pierce said. "Maybe you and I are just too choosy. We're both waiting for a custom fit in an off-the-rack world."

"Sounds like a long wait."

Pierce had a suggestion to pass the time. They played a game he called 'Double Solitaire Scrabble' where they made whatever words they could out of the letters they were assigned.

"And we don't score off of each other. And if you need any extra letters like a 'y' for sympathy you can borrow one of mine."

Smiling she asked, "How many points do I get if I find L-O-V-E?"

"You win the game."

July 27, 1963

She twirled the pen in her fingers and started writing again.

So you see I think I've finally come to learn that even though I wouldn't mind having a long term relationship and even a child at some point that's not what a woman - or rather this woman - necessarily needs to be happy. I really do have a good career and I have a solid group of friends to rely on.

Maybe that's it - that's what I wanted to thank you for. You were the first man I ever actually became friends with. Granted, we didn't start off that easy and it took our one sexual encounter (which I can honestly tell you now was quite satisfactory - and I hope it was for you as well) to really seal the deal on our road to friendship but I don't regret any of that. Through you that I really could be myself, and through that I learned to accept myself.

Before your head gets too inflated, you certainly weren't the only man to teach me that - but you were the first I really allowed myself to be a friend both to and for and I thank you for that.

I think we are just too different for anything romantic to ever come of it and really I don't think romance is what I want right now because I'm finally coming to realize who I am and that comes first.

I'd love to hear from you, Hawkeye. Please write back and let me know how you're doing.

~~Margaret.

Feeling a strong sense of satisfaction Margaret set her pen down and smiled. She hoped she would hear from Pierce again. Perhaps they could maintain their friendship through letters and occasional phone calls. It would be nice to hear the man's loud cackling laugh again.

Picking up her book again she sat back into her chair and began to read.

~~Fin