Another shell hit the ground, lighting up the hut as it exploded. Margaret screamed again and silently berated herself. Silence would be a far better tactic, but couldn't she couldn't hold it in.
Her heart was thumping like it was trying to burst out of her chest, and her pulse was racing. Loud noises terrified her no matter how hard she tried to convince herself they shouldn't, and never had one been so poised to actually kill her. In the past she might have felt ashamed for reacting this way, in front of Hawkeye Pierce no less, but now was neither the time nor the place.
Hawkeye, in turn, focussed his attention on their immediate, rather lacklustre surroundings in an attempt to stop his mind from speculating about what might be going on in the surrounding bushes.
He could hear Margaret beside him, her breath was coming in short, sharp, jagged little puffs, causing her shoulder to butt up against his.
If he didn't at least try to do something he was worried that she might spin into a full blown panic attack or worse: faint.
He grasped her shoulders firmly, shushing her. "It's okay, Margaret," he said in a vain attempt to seize control of the situation. "We're fine, it's going to be fine."
"How can you say that? They're bombing us, the next shell and they'll kill us!"
"I doubt they're going to kill us, they're probably using this hut as a registration point." He was trying to convince himself as much as her, but even if it were true, there was no guarantee they wouldn't obliterate it once they were done with it.
Margaret stilled, looking up at him. "I didn't know you knew anything about that." Military strategy, basic or not, was the last thing she'd expected to hear come out of his mouth.
A third explosion occurred, again casting a faint glow, only this time it illuminated a figure standing in the hut's entrance.
The pair screamed, sending Margaret diving for her stick while Hawkeye went for the flashlight. He swiped at the the switch frantically, illuminating the area: there in the doorway was a North Korean soldier, carrying both a gun and a major wound.
Margaret tensed, and Hawkeye prayed that she wouldn't try to hit the man. He didn't think she was that stupid, but she was that wound up. He couldn't see any point in trying to hit a man with a gun; he'd probably just shoot them dead.
The soldier's movements were laboured; blood oozed from a hole in his belly as he advanced. A river of red dribbled slowly down his leg, staining the dirt.
He stopped, barking something in Korean as he cocked his rifle. His words rang out sharply into the temporarily still night before he pointed the gun at Hawkeye's head.
In that very moment another shell exploded, rocking the ground, and sending a spray of dirt and tiny rocks flying into the hut with such force that it stung wherever it hit.
The blast toppled the wounded man, and he collided with the ground, but not before squeezing the trigger. The gun went off with a bang, the bullet whizzing past Hawkeye's left ear and leaving the hut through the wall.
He made a pathetic sound as his brain slowly registered what had just happened; his life hadn't even had time to flash before his eyes.
He waited a beat, but the soldier didn't move.
Hawkeye extended his leg, tentatively poking the man with his foot, but there was no response. He leaned forward and made sure the gun was out of reach before searching for a pulse, but found nothing.
A visible wave of relief washed over him, followed immediately by disgust. He should feel sadness or regret at the man's passing, yet all he could muster was a gratefulness that he and Margaret would now live another minute. It threw into stark relief just how dire their situation really was, as if it had been possible to forget.
In that moment Margaret's fear burst its banks and became misery. A harsh sob broke free from her lips.
Settling back on the mat he flicked the flashlight off before turning to Margaret and gently prising the stick from her grip so that he could wrap his arms around her.
"C'mere, Margaret."
She jumped when he made contact, but allowed herself to be pulled into him as she continued to cry. It wasn't much, but having the warm aliveness of her in his arms was more pleasant than not. He allowed himself to concentrate on that feeling, his grimy cheek pressed against equally dirty blonde hair. But it wasn't long until his thoughts turned to the gun on the floor nearby.
They'd probably increase their chances of survival a little by sitting holding the gun instead of each other but, like her, he was tired of fighting to live. They'd just have to hope that they didn't get any more bombs or surprise visitors.
Margaret turned her head so that her mouth was clear of his chest, taking a deep breath as she tried to get herself emotions back under control.
"I just wanted to say, that it's been an honour working with you, Captain."
Hawkeye was stunned into momentary silence."Don't talk like that, someone'll find us." His statement was as much a deflection as it was something he wanted to believe, and it hung awkwardly in the air.
"But for the record; it's been an honour working with you too, Major."
She said nothing in reply, but he felt the side of her face move upwards ever so slightly in what he assumed was some sort of smile.
The moment was shattered by another explosion. Hawkeye pulled Margaret even closer, as much for his own comfort as hers and as he did, he found himself praying silently to a god he was pretty sure didn't exist, just in case God actually did and felt like helping them get out of here alive.
Back at the 4077th, sleep was being elusive. Sherman Potter had left his office for long enough to get into his pyjamas and robe, but the delusion that he was going to be able to sleep hadn't even lasted long enough for him to get into bed. Instead, he'd shoved his feet into a pair of slippers and come back over here to perch on his desk and stare at the phone, just in case it rang with any news.
He'd not been there long before Radar shuffled into the room, concern etched on his sleep-worn, bespectacled face. "Are you okay, sir?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Radar. Just finding it a little hard to sleep."
"Gosh. It's a real shame the 8063rd didn't manage to called before they left."
"I know, son, I keep going over the same thing. Lord only knows where they are, now."
"Or who's done what to them." he mentally added. He didn't plan on sharing that thought, but the look on Radar's face told him that he already knew.
Before the conversation could resume, the doors opened once as a robe clad BJ pushed through them. He scrutinised both of them, as if trying to detect any trace of new information. "This is quite the pyjama party. Heard anything?"
"Nope, Hunnicutt, not a thing."
BJ blew out a noisy jet of air from between his lips, in an attempt to temper his frustrations.
"There must be something we can do, instead of just sitting around here waiting to hear that they're dead!"
The Colonel gave him a look that conveyed both weariness and carefully constructed patience. "Son, I've made a lot of calls to a lot of people, and each time the answer is the same: the area they're in is too dangerous to go looking for them, so we've gotta stay put." BJ opened his mouth to object, but the Colonel sighed audibly and put up his hand to silence him. "Pierce and Houlihan are tough nuts. If they've managed to find somewhere to hide, I'm sure they're gonna be fine."
BJ sat down heavily in a chair in front of the desk, aware that he was beaten. "Imagine those two spending a lot of time confined together. They get along like a house on fire, if only in the sense that something's probably on fire."
"They are both fond of a good yell." The Colonel paused before continuing. "Personally, however, I've always thought they worked well together." It wasn't the kind of gossip or speculation he usually took part in, but he figured they could use the distraction.
BJ's eyes were alight with mischief, his frustration temporarily forgotten. "In the OR or generally?"
The Colonel eyed him slyly. "Why, what have you seen?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing!"
Radar piped up tentatively, "I've seen a few things. They've kissed and everything."
The other two men's heads whipped around, their attention now fully on him.
BJ was incredulous. "When? What kind of kiss?"
"Well the first time—"
The Colonel interrupted "It happened more than once?"
"Yes, sir. The first time I was just crossing the compound, minding my own business, when Captain Pierce stopped Major Burns and Houlihan. He got Major Burns to hold his martini for him to that he could grab Major Houlihan and kiss her."
BJ's eyes widened. Hawk had failed to mention that one. "Let me guess, that was right before she tried to have him court-martialled?"
"No sir. Major Burns wanted to, but she had this big grin on her face and she pretended that nothing had happened."
Potter shook his head with a smirk. "That Pierce. Always one to play with fire, especially if it's female. What about this second time?" he pressed, eager for the distraction of more gossip.
"Well, sir, Colonel Blake had ordered the nurses to bug out, so they were all boarding the truck to leave, and Major Houlihan was saluting the other officers goodbye. When she saluted Cap'n Pierce, he stepped forward and dipped her, and they kissed for ages."
BJ's eyes were shining with amusement. "Surely she'd have to have seen that coming."
"I'm pretty sure she did, sir, she didn't step back or nothing."
The Colonel let out a guffaw, he was laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes. "What did she do this time, more smiling?"
"Oh, Loads. Major Burns had to lead her away."
"Well there you go. They make a fine surgical team, and apparently a good kissing one as well. I'll be honest, I have always wondered about them. I remember not long after I arrived here, when Meg Cratty and her orphans came for a visit; they flirted so hard I was going to find them in the supply room together!"
"And now she's married to Penobscot," BJ interjected.
"And she's been unhappier for it!" the Colonel exclaimed. "The amount of screeching she's been doing. Not just down the phone, either. At Pierce, Radar. All of us."
Radar's eyes flicked between the two other men, gauging as to whether he should share his next piece of information. "Maybe not for much longer"
The Colonel looked at him inquiringly. "Why's that, Radar?"
"The letter her Colonel sent her didn't have her name on it."
"What do you mean?" BJ pressed.
"It was written to some other lady. Her name was Darlene or something."
"And you're sure it wasn't some nickname he'd given Major Houlihan?"
"Nah, it mentioned that he had a wife and everything."
BJ's voice was raised in outrage. "Why am I not surprised?"
The Colonel sighed. "She does have a way of picking them."
BJ deflated visibly as the weight of the night settled back over them. "I hope gets back here safely just so she can divorce the guy."
"So do I, son. So do I."
When Margaret came to the next morning she was both annoyed and impressed. Annoyed with herself for having been weak and complacent enough to fall asleep, but impressed by the fact that Hawkeye, who still had one arm around her, was sitting with his other hand on the gun, watching the doorway, which was lit by the pale, pre-dawn light.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, looking down at her as she shifted.
She had the good grace to blush. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but when the shelling had eventually stopped she'd faded into an exhausted but fitful sleep.
Hawkeye couldn't really say he minded. She'd been a convenient source of warmth, and her snoozing had made it all feel a lot more relaxed than it really was. He'd been pointedly ignoring the stiff, dead body lying in front of him.
"Any more movement out there?" Margaret said as she sat up and disentangled herself from his arm.
"Not unless you count the birds."
He was back to flippancy, she noted. He was either more resigned or more relaxed. But birds were good. The absence of birds would be far more ominous
Hawkeye took a swig of water from a flask he'd found in his bag. "Drink?" he said, offering it to Margaret.
"Thank you," she replied, taking it from him.
"So," Hawkeye said as she took a swig, "what are we going to do today? I was thinking a nice picnic next to a hole in the ground, but the maid didn't pack any lunch..."
"I think we should position ourselves somewhere American troops would be most likely to find us," Margaret said, ignoring his extraneous words.
"How about by the road?"
"It's as good a place as any." Margaret's gaze fell on the dead man lying on the floor. "We should leave as soon as possible." She was all too aware that the longer they lingered, the more likely someone would discover them, and the more visible they'd be once they went outside.
Hawkeye slung the gun over one shoulder, and his bag over the other. He didn't want it, nor did he want to need it, but he knew there was a chance that he might.
"How many bullets are left in that thing?"
"Doesn't matter, I'm only planning on waving it around until the enemy leaves us alone." Or at least that's what he was trying to tell himself, anyway.
The fighting had stopped, so one side had obviously gone home, but who had won and where they had gone was, so far, unclear.
They were going to have to tread carefully.
AN: Some of you are probably yelling, "But where's the main event?!"
Wellp, I moved it to somewhere I feel is more organic and in keeping with their relationship outside of this crazy two-parter, and less shoehorned in, 'cause that's what I do :)
But it DOES still happen within the realm of this story.