A/N: I wrote this because I was really bored. It took about five minutes to write so it's a bit choppy sorry.
Disclaimer: I do not own MASH.
Through the tinted shades of his oversized sunglasses, the world looked like a very pink paradise. There also appeared to be a very pink, and angry, Margaret storming toward him. Oops.
"Look Beej, we have some company." Hawkeye giggled pointing at Margaret, while B.J. lifted up the rim of his very interesting hat to take a look. He smiled in response, swaying slightly in his lawn chair. Hawkeye quickly reached out to stop his very intoxicated friend from falling on his arse.
"Pierce! Hunnicutt! What do you think you're doing?" Margaret's eyes seemed alight with fury, and she focused her fiery gaze at the two men. If looks could kill! Oh she wished they could at this very moment! Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders, and responded while wiping alcohol off his shirt.
"What does it look like we're doing Margaret? We're sitting here like two very rich contented men, in the luxurious 'Hotel Korea'!"
"You look like a bunch of buffoons to me!" Margaret spat shaking her head in disgust.
"Awwwww, now Margaret, that hurts, it does." B.J. frowned drunkenly, clutching his chest, as if Margaret's comment had punctured his heart.
"Is he drunk?" She gestured toward B.J. who was about halfway to the ground.
"He'll be evaluated further for a definite diagnosis, but now it looks like, yes, he is."
"It looks like your well on your way as well." She added. Noticing the very unfocused eyes, and foggy air about him. He looked miserable, they both did. She took B.J.'s now unoccupied seat, as Hawk handed her a martini.
"What do you want, Hotlips?" Hawk asked taking another sip. Mmmm. Dry as the Sahara.
Margaret smiled at the old nickname. "You weren't there to take over Charles's shift. So the pompous ass sent me to get you. Honestly! You men, your egos are bigger than this godforsaken continent! Blame the women every time!!" Margaret finished in a huff, taking a swig of her martini and slamming it on the wooden table between them for emphasis. Hawkeye nodded in understanding. They spent a few minutes in silence, which was then broken by soft snores. They both turned to look at B.J, now asleep, lying on the ground. She sighed in annoyance.
"What brought this on?" She gestured to the still next to Hawkeye and the ground littered with olive pits. Hawkeye looked at her pulling off the sunglasses.
"Do we need any other reason than this?" He said sweeping his hand toward the barren landscape of Korea surrounding them.
"Hawkeye, I know, but something big must've happened."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, you'd only break out the olives for a special occasion. What happened Hawk?" She said, expression softening. Hawkeye turned toward her, a haunted look in his eyes.
"That patient I had in the OR. The kid where I had to massage his heart back to life? He just died. I thought he would make it. He was doing so well. Margaret, he was only nineteen."
Hawkeye's face fell as he remembered the young man. Margaret reached out, placing her hand on Hawkeye's shoulder.
"I'm sorry, Hawkeye. You know we can't save them all."
Hawkeye shot her an angry. "Don't you think I know that Margaret! I'm a doctor for god sake! We've been going through this for so long, together." Hawkeye set down martini and stared at Margaret, eyes watering.
"I'm just so tired, Margaret." Then he leaned over, encasing her in his outstretched arms. Margaret sat still, in shock as Hawkeye's sobs racked his body. She brought her hand up to rub his back.
"Hawkeye, I know. We've been here so long; we all just want to go home. Don't worry Hawk, we'll check out of Hotel Korea soon. I promise." Hawkeye, let go of Margaret, staring at her.
"Margaret, I like you when you have your compassionate moments like this. It fits you well; you should do it more often." She smiled.
"Don't get too used to it, you big buffoon!" Hawkeye laughed, and soon Margaret joined him. The two sat back staring at 'Hotel Korea', B.J.'s snores joining them. Yes they would check out, alive, she was somehow sure of it.