Hi guys! Welcome to my first fanfiction. I hope y'all like it!
I wanted this to be Margaret/Hawkeye but it turned into more of a Margaret character study with some sexy stuff to close.
Timeline: mid Season 5 but Charles has already arrived and Donald doesn't exist
As the sun rose over the hills into the South Korean sky that Friday morning, Margaret Houlihan found herself watching with a new perspective. Last night was one of the best nights of her life and she had no idea how it happened. Her mind was racing and her body was tingling at the memory of the night before. She was shocked and confused, but also happier than she had been in ages, all thanks to too many hours in the OR followed by a few drinks in the Officer's Club.
The Tuesday before, she had left the OR exhausted by the 13 hours in surgery with more casualties than she could count.
Hawkeye had lost one that afternoon. Hawkeye never loses one, she thought. All the joking and the gossip had ended as the whole room watched him try to save the boy whose heart had stopped. He almost did it, but the patient had lost too much blood. Margaret saw the light go out of Hawkeye's eyes before he left the room.
She followed him outside and sat next to him on the bench. She couldn't think of anything to say so she just held his hand and laid her head on his shoulder. To her surprise, Hawkeye turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to her hair.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
"I know," Margaret replied.
He started to get up, but Margaret made a small noise of protest and pulled him back to her.
"I want to stay out here as much as you do, probably more, but we both know there's too much to do."
She reluctantly rose to her feet and followed him back into the OR.
A few hours later, she collapsed on her bed, trying to forget the horrors she had seen that afternoon. But she couldn't escape them. The OR followed her into her dreams, as it had many nights before and would many nights after. She awoke with a start after a particularly harrowing dream. That's it, she thought. The loneliness was killing her and she needed to find someone who could help ease the pain.
Margaret rose from her bed and pulled on her robe before stepping out into the cool night air. She began walking around the compound, not quite sure where she wanted to go, but positive that she didn't want to return to her own tent. Margaret found herself wandering towards the mess tent. She heard voices and saw the other officers chatting softly over cups of coffee.
"There you are," said Hawkeye with a small smile. "They," he said with a nod towards his companions, "were going to come get you, but I thought you might want a few more hours of sleep."
As she sat down next to him, she glanced at him, surprised.
"How long did I sleep?" She felt a wave of guilt pass over her as she worried that she had neglected her duties.
"About as long as we were in surgery yesterday," BJ responded.
They had spent 13 hours in the operating room on Tuesday.
"It's Wednesday evening?" she exclaimed.
"Margaret, calm down," she heard Hawkeye say as he touched her arm. But she was far from calm. Sleeping in is one thing, but missing a shift in post-op was irresponsible. And Margaret Houlihan was never irresponsible.
Her friends insisted that everything was fine. Other nurses had taken over her shift and all the wounded were in good hands.
I wish they had woken me up, she thought, then I could've traded those nightmares for the horrors of reality.
She felt Hawkeye nudge her out of her daydream. She hadn't realized he was sitting so close, almost as close as they had been that afternoon. Or yesterday afternoon, she corrected herself.
"Margaret, are you still in there?"
"Of course I am," she said, annoyed. Then she looked around the table and realized everyone had left except for him.
"You've been staring at your coffee for 15 minutes. I almost thought you had fallen back asleep."
"I didn't."
"I know."
"I can't sleep. I mean my eyes are closed and I drift away, but my dreams aren't an escape. They're a trap, a nightmare, a horror."
Hawkeye looked at her with a compassion in his eyes that she had never seen before. He moved his arm around her shoulders, brushing his hand against her hair as he did. She leaned into his side and listened to his heartbeat.
They sat there in silence for a few minutes before Hawkeye turned to her and whispered that he had to go. Margaret realized she hadn't eaten even though she had been in the mess tent for almost 45 minutes. They both got up and left - Margaret in search of food and Hawkeye to post op.
After a dissatisfying snack and a quick shower, Margaret entered post op to resume her duties. Hawkeye was there making his usual rounds and joking with the boys whose lives he had held in the palm of his hands just a few hours before. Margaret marveled at his talent. Sure he could be an asshole sometimes, but the real Hawkeye Pierce was here in post op, making the young men smile and distracting them from the pain they must still be feeling.
Margaret made her way to a young man with a wounded leg. It had been a simple surgery, she remembered. He had just a few pieces of shrapnel in his right leg, nothing that wouldn't heal after a few days rest.
"How are you feeling?" She asked the young man with a friendly smile.
"Much better, especially now that I've seen your lovely face," he said with a grin.
Margaret took the soldier's temperature and happily told him that everything was normal and he should be able to walk again soon. As she made her way around the room, she couldn't help but notice Hawkeye watching her with a strange look on his face. If she didn't know better, she might think it was admiration. She walked over to him and asked him for an update. He replied that his patients were doing fine, but she should definitely keep an eye on the boy with the head injury. Margaret could sense the pain in his voice as she realized that he was still upset about the boy he had lost.
"It's ok, Hawkeye."
"What's ok?"
"You're still thinking about him, aren't you?"
"I'm always thinking about them," he replied with a sigh.
"Whenever you need to talk, I'll always be here for you."
"Thanks, Major Baby," he grinned.
Margaret smiled. He hadn't called her that in months and she was surprised to find that she had missed it. Her shift was over soon after that exchange so she returned to her tent and tried to find something to read. She decided on her favorite book of poetry and soon lost herself in the beautiful imagery.
A few hours later, she heard the call for breakfast. Her 13 hour nap from the day before had really thrown off her schedule. It was about nine am when she found herself back in the mess tent trying to swallow whatever it was that Igor had prepared.
"Good morning, Major," Colonel Potter greeted her. "It's good to see you on time today," he said with a smile.
"Good morning sir," Margaret replied. "I hope you had a restful night."
"It wasn't too bad, although I was disappointed to wake up and find that Mildred hadn't actually baked a pie for Sunday dinner."
"I wish I had dreams as sweet as those," she mused."Mine have been pretty unsettling lately."
With the exception of a few rather scandalous ones about a certain doctor, she thought with a glance across the tent to the doctor in question.
Soon she was done with breakfast and headed off to give her nurses their assignments for the day. As always, Kellye, Bigelow, and Able were in top form that day, even encouraging the new nurse as she tried to adjust. Margaret was thankful that she and her nurses had finally reached an understanding based on mutual respect. She was impressed with their competency in the OR and their compassion in Post-op and used that day's meeting as opportunity to express that.
A few hours and one urgent announcement later, Margaret found herself once again in OR surrounded by wounded men.
God, why can't you make this stop, she thought. She could see by the look on his face that Hawkeye was thinking the exact same thing. She headed over to his table to assist him as he finished sewing up a man's leg.
The atmosphere in the OR was pained as usual, but BJ and Hawkeye were in fine form trying to lighten up the mood. Their non stop banter usually annoyed Margaret, but today she was grateful for the distraction.
All of a sudden, Margaret found herself laughing at the absurdity of it all. But then she couldn't stop laughing. Oh boy, people are starting to stare. Pull it together. How can you call yourself a professional if you can't control your laughter, she berated herself. Imagine what Frank would say, she scolded. But that just made her laugh harder.
Hawkeye's voice echoed her internal one: "Whoa Margaret, calm down. I know I'm funny, but I'm certainly no Bob Hope."
He stared at her. She stared back. She had stopped laughing, but now she couldn't look away. It wasn't the first time she had found herself lost in his eyes, but it was the first time it had happened in OR.
Hawkeye finally looked away and called for another stretcher to be brought in. Margaret took a lap around the room to look over her nurses' work. Satisfied, she returned to Hawkeye's table.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly.
Hawkeye just nodded in reply and asked her for a scalpel. The atmosphere in the OR went back to normal and Charles began complaining, once again, about the "primitive" working conditions.
"Gee, Charles, you really know how brighten up a room, don't you?" Hawkeye retorted.
"Give it a rest, Major," Colonel Potter admonished.
Thankfully, Thursday's session turned out to be much shorter than Tuesday's and they were finished in about three hours.
Sitting in the officer's club after that day's session was over, Margaret felt like a fool. How could she be so irresponsible as to make a scene and distract everyone from their work. She didn't know what had come over her. It couldn't be fatigue because she had gotten more than enough sleep the day before. It's this place, she thought. Maybe she was going crazy. She couldn't be though. Crazy was Hawkeye's territory. Sometimes she could sense his pain and could always tell when he was hiding things. She feared it might all rise to the surface one day and possibly get the best of him. The thought of losing him was almost too painful to contemplate.
Stop it, she reminded herself, you can't lose someone who doesn't belong to you.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Startled, Margaret looked up from her drink and there was Hawkeye, standing next to her, looking a bit concerned.
"Are you feeling better?" he asked.
"A bit, thanks," she replied.
"I'm glad. I was worried about you. Mostly annoyed, but also worried."
Margaret felt something between them changing. It had been growing for the past few months, ever since they had spent that night at the front. This week had been particularly intense and this afternoon had been nearly unbearable. And now, at this moment, she found herself once again lost in his eyes.
It seemed that Hawkeye was reacting to her gaze in the same way.
Why does this keep happening? She wondered.
"Your eyes are so blue," Margaret heard herself say. She blushed when she realized she had said that out loud.
Hawkeye grinned.
"Why, Margaret, if I didn't know you any better, I'd think you were flirting."
"Maybe I am."
It seemed the liquor had lessened her filter.
Hawkeye looked surprised.
"Can I sit?" he asked.
"Of course," she replied.
He sat beside her, moving his chair a little closer than necessary so that their knees were nearly touching. Maybe it was the drink, but Margaret felt her breath quicken in anticipation.
In anticipation of what? She thought. Why do I feel so nervous? We've sat like this a million times before.
Hawkeye got up to get a beer from the bar and Margaret was surprised at how much she missed his presence.
He returned to the table a few moments later and started making small talk until he realized she wasn't listening.
Hawkeye's voice turned kinder as he touched her hand.
"Have you heard anything I've said?"
"No," she admitted shyly.
Shyly? Since when have I ever done anything shyly? Margaret thought. Well, there's a first for everything, I suppose.
"I feel like I've been here for ages," she admitted.
"We've only been sitting here for about half an hour."
"Not here! I mean Korea. I can't get the fear out of my head that we might be here forever. My dreams seem to haunt me even in daylight and I can barely remember a time before I knew what war was like. Our trip to the front, although months ago, still gives me nightmares and I can hear the bombs crashing all around us."
Margaret couldn't stop talking. She found herself spilling all her secrets to a man she once saw as an adversary, but had now become one of her closest friends.
Margaret kept going.
"You know, when I was little my family went to church. It was comforting because we moved around so often and there were always church groups to welcome us 'home.' I was even baptized when I was 16. I accepted Jesus into my heart, bought a new white dress, and cried with joy. I've still got my first Bible tucked away in my foot locker.
"But a year later, the war started. The Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, the Nazis killed millions of Jews, and London was blitzed. None of it made sense, but at least I had some distance from the true horrors. It was just news to me. My father and brother were 'over there,' but they came home safely.
"I started nursing school shortly after the war ended, my faith stronger than ever. Can you imagine 'Hot Lips' Houlihan singing in church and reading the Bible before bed? Well it's true. As a nurse, I was confident that I was doing 'God's work."
"Go on," Hawkeye said, stunned by her confession and unsure where she was going next.
"But three years after graduation - last year, I guess - things started to change. It happened during those first few months I was overseas. Suddenly the patients weren't just patients, they were men and women in the military with battle scars, shrapnel in their bellies, and bullets near their hearts. Surgery turned ugly.
"I was scared and began to question everything. That's when I first felt the desire to be more than just a nurse. I needed to be in control. 'Let go and let God' no longer worked for me. The horrors overwhelmed my faith. Without a church and a loving God to turn to, I decided to look for comfort wherever I could find it. I realized I could 'kill two birds with one stone' and find comfort in powerful men who would help me reach my goals in return.
"Somewhere along the way, I stopped being 'Maggie' and became 'Hot Lips.'"
She paused.
"I guess all of this is to say that I've been working on putting 'Hot Lips' behind me - it certainly helps that Frank is gone - but I'm not sure if I can, or want to, go back to being 'Maggie.' I've seen too much, dreamt too much, lived too much."
Oh boy, Margaret thought looking away. Now I've really messed things up. He's just gonna run, isn't he?
When she finally looked back however, Hawkeye was still there. He was staring at her, but this time she couldn't read his gaze.
"Maggie?" he smirked.
"Yeah," she answered, relieved he hadn't run away.
"It's cute, but you're right. It doesn't fit you anymore. Have you talked to Fr. Mulcahy about this stuff? Do you want to?"
"I'm not sure. I'm kind of ashamed, because it seems like the war made his faith stronger, while it crushed mine."
"True, and I'm guessing you didn't tell me all that just so I could send you to someone else."
"Nope, you're not getting out of this conversation that easily, hot shot," she laughed.
"Then why did you tell me?"
Margaret pointed to her drink with a smile. "Well this definitely had something to do with it."
Hawkeye laughed. "If I get you another, will you tell me 'Maggie's' favorite Bible verse?"
"Oh cut it out, Pierce. You're never going to let go of that nickname, are you?"
"Nope." He walked over to the bar and returned to the table with two more drinks.
"So," he said as he sat down, "It seems I owe you an existential confession."
"You definitely don't have to. Besides, it's getting late and I have a feeling your problems might be even harder to understand than mine," she teased.
"I think you just insulted me, but you look so cute right now, I'll let it go."
Cute? she thought. I must look like a mess. I'm half drunk and close to crying. But she knew he'd see right through false modesty so she didn't say anything.
Margaret realized Hawkeye was sitting very close to her again, their knees almost touching. The nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach came back, but she tried to push it away.
Calm down, you're not 16, she told herself. And even if you were, you'd never sit next to someone with his kind of reputation. Heck, you wouldn't have sat next to him a few months ago.
Margaret was amazed at how much things had changed.
"So what do you want to do now?" she heard him ask.
Hawkeye was smirking and he had a look in his eyes that she had seen directed at so many other women. She was startled to realize that she wasn't annoyed, she was turned on by the attention.
He really does have sexy eyes, she thought for the eight millionth time that day.
"Well, what are you thinking?" he asked.
"Judging by that look in your eyes, probably the same thing you are."
Hawkeye looked surprised.
"Are you sure?"
Margaret moved even closer and responded: "Well, I just spilled my life story and my most intimate fears with you. I'm pretty upset and more than a little drunk, so what do we have to lose?"
They finished their drinks and sat there a few minutes longer, not exactly sure what to do next. Margaret was starting to doubt herself, worried she might cross a line and mess things up.
But then he gave her a wide smile and half jokingly asked: "Should we continue this at your place or mine?"
Together, they got up and walked out of the Officers' Club. Margaret was pleased to realize that although they were both drunk, they were also serious and sane.
They reached the door of her tent and she went inside. Hawkeye took a quick glance around to make sure no one was nearby and then ducked inside.
My goodness, he's tall, she noticed. She loved his height. She always felt comforted by his shadow when he stood near her. That was such a new feeling, because being "overshadowed" by people in her career was one of her least favorite things.
Margaret was happy that she felt so safe with him standing there in her tent. It had always been so crowded with Frank in it; his nervous presence had permeated every inch. Now, Hawkeye filled the room, but somehow he was less invasive and she could tell he respected her space.
She was reminded of another time when they had been alone in her tent a few months ago. The camp had an outbreak of hepatitis and he had come over to give her the inoculation. She had gotten upset at one of his rude remarks. When he asked why she was upset she remembered answering that all she wanted was "respect. Simple respect. I expect nothing more and I'll accept nothing less." To her surprise, he had looked at her with admiration and called her magnificent.
Tonight, he was looking at her the same way and it was making her very happy. She had seen sexual admiration and appreciation in many men's eyes, but Hawkeye was the only one whose look included professional and personal admiration as well.
Hawkeye took a step closer and Margaret felt her heart skip a beat. This is all so cliché, she thought, but I love it. The soft light in the corner gave a quiet warmth to her tent and it suddenly felt like "home." She was amazed that this man, one so talented and unusual, could inspire these sorts of physical and emotional responses.
Hawkeye still hadn't said anything, but the air was filled with anticipation rather than awkwardness. She looked up at him, just now realizing how close they were. All she needed was to step up on her toes and their lips would touch.
They had kissed twice before. (Or rather, he had kissed her. She was completely surprised both times.) His lips had felt amazing, but those kisses were just teasing. She knew now that any kisses tonight would be much different.
Margaret felt him gently touch her chin as he leaned down to kiss her. His kiss was soft and gentle. If she hadn't known better, she might've thought he was nervous too. She deepened the kiss, her confidence growing as she felt him respond.
Hawkeye broke off the kiss. "Remember the time I told you that you were my favorite officer in the whole US Army?"
"Of course," she said with a smile.
"Well I've decided to amend that statement and tell you that you're also the most beautiful officer in the whole US Army."
"So are you," Margaret replied, blushing. "I mean, you're my favorite," she clarified. Hawkeye laughed at her little slip.
Here comes the awkwardness, she thought. So many men had called her beautiful, but she could hear something different in Hawkeye's voice.
Margaret had never been with a man who knew her so well. She and her first boyfriend were both too innocent to have such secrets and since then she hadn't had a real relationship. There were quite a few lovers, but not very many boyfriends.
So here she was, in the middle of a war zone, standing in a tiny tent with one lamp and two candles, wondering when the man in front of her was going to kiss her again. The man to whom she had poured out her life story, the man she had stood beside in the OR for hours on end, and the man she had seen rescue boys from death time and time again.
Then Hawkeye wrapped his arms around her and pulled her even closer. He kissed her again, this time with more passion and confidence. I can't believe this is really happening, she thought as she returned the kiss.
It was a very good kiss. Maybe the best she ever had, with their goodbye kiss from a few months ago coming in a close second. Between the alcohol and the excitement, Margaret was struggling to form coherent thoughts, so she decided to let herself go for the first time in a while. As she tightened her embrace, she stopped thinking and started feeling. And there were a lot of feelings as Hawkeye's kisses grew more intense by the moment.
Suddenly, she felt his lips move from her mouth to her neck as he began to unbutton her blouse. She was surprised to hear herself moan and eagerly responded to him by running her fingers through his hair and then pulling off her shirt. Hawkeye stepped back to look at her for a moment and Margaret worried he might be stopping. Instead, he just murmured "wow" so softly that she wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly. I'm just wearing my standard army issued bra, she thought, desperately wishing she had thought to put on the soft pink one that was hanging in her closet. She hadn't taken it out since Frank left. Uggh he's the last person I should be thinking about right now. She turned her focus back to Hawkeye, who was still looking at her like she really was the most beautiful officer in the whole US Army.
"Fair's fair," she joked as she stepped closer and started unbuttoning his shirt. He smirked as she pushed it down off his shoulders.
"You didn't say 'wow.'"
"Pierce, I've seen you with your shirt off before. In fact, the entire camp has seen you naked."
"Oh yeah," he remembered, looking disappointed.
"Well, if it helps, you do look very nice up close."
"It does," he laughed.
Ok, enough talking, she thought. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him, breathless once again.
Margaret felt his hands roam across her back and gasped a bit when he easily unclasped her bra. This is it, she thought. No going back now.
He pulled the straps down off her shoulders and the bra fell to the ground. There was a look in his eyes that she hadn't seen in ages. One that was similar to the look in her teenage boyfriend's eyes the first time they made love. Only Hawkeye's was more intense. Everything about this night was more intense.
Now that they were both half naked, things were moving more quickly than they had before. Margaret sat down on her bed and pulled Hawkeye down beside her. Pausing between kisses, they removed the rest of their clothes. As they did, they saw an odd mix of disbelief and passion in each other's eyes.
"This isn't just the alcohol, is it? And it's not a dream, right? Because I've had those before and waking up after is very disappointing."
"Margaret, calm down," he told her. "I don't really understand either, but at this moment all I want to do is be with you - only you."
Reassured, Margaret closed her eyes and let herself get lost in his arms. For the first time in a long time, she knew this was real. The feelings, the actions, the softly murmured words between them were all grounded in the trust they shared.
Margaret awoke with a start. For one brief and worrying moment, she thought the arms wrapped around her belonged to Frank. She was pleasantly surprised when she realized the arms belonged to Hawkeye. The memories of the night before came rushing back. She smiled softly as she slowly untangled herself from his arms. She sat on the side of the bed, watching him sleep, hoping that he wouldn't think everything had been a mistake once he woke up. She felt a bit nervous wondering what his reaction would be. She felt amazing and comfortable with the way things happened last night, but there was a part of her that was confused about how fast everything had gone. First they were having drinks in the Officer's Club and the next thing she knew they were in her tent, bodies tangled together in the most exciting of ways. The more she thought about things, the more jumbled her feelings got.
Margaret decided to walk outside, hoping no one would notice when Hawkeye left her tent. She found herself a lovely spot away from the camp where she sat, watching the beautiful sunrise. She marveled at how easy it was to find beauty, even in the most unpleasant of places. She felt happier than she had been in months. Maybe even years, she thought.
Suddenly, she heard a voice behind her and turned to find Hawkeye walking towards her.
"Good morning," he greeted her with a smile.
"Shhh, not so loud," she replied.
"No one saw me leave your tent, if that's what you're worried about."
"Ok good. Everyone thinks we hate each other, and I don't think we should confuse them," she joked.
He sat down beside her and handed her a cup of coffee.
"Thanks," she said. "You didn't need to do that."
"Hey, I got you drunk last night, the least I can do is help you with your hangover."
"Well you've done way more than 'the least you could do,'" she smirked.
He laughed. "I suppose I have. But I enjoyed every minute of it."
"Me too," she responded shyly. Here you go again, feeling shy around the man that knows you best.
"So do we do anything now? Or was that just a one night situation and you needed comforting?"
Margaret was both surprised and relieved at the bluntness of his question.
"I don't know yet. But I do know that we were very good together and I'm grateful. I didn't have any nightmares last night, which is the first time since I've been here that's happened. So thank you," she smiled.
"I didn't know your bad dreams were that consistent. I'm glad I was there for you."
"Me too."
Margaret stood up. "I think I'm going to get something to eat."
"Good idea."
Hawkeye followed her to the mess tent where they both got breakfast and sat down side by side at the table with the other officers. As Margaret listened to their small talk, she felt Hawkeye's hand on her knee as he gave her a soft smile. She knew then that the rest of her day might actually be a happy one.
Somehow, Hawkeye Pierce had managed to give her back a very important piece of herself that had been missing. That morning, Margaret Houlihan finally had hope.