There is a mistake in the previous chapter – I accidentally said 5035th instead of 5025th. Never mind. I just wanted to get this one out.
Chapter Four – Anger
Margaret stormed back across the compound, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. She was confused. Her sister and her had never been best friends, but they were still family. So why did Margaret feel so angry? She seemed to blame everyone for what happened.
She barged into pre – op, donning the white scrubs. Just when she moved over to the sink to wash her hands, she heard something which made her cringe.
"Oh, man! Houlihan's in a foul mood. Now we'll never get out of here!" One of the nurses was talking animatedly, fixating the head nurse with a glare of steel.
Margaret shuddered for a second, and then decided that these women had no right to be mad at her. She whipped round, hair twirling, eyes meeting the face of the guilty nurse in a heated anger.
"What the HELL gives you the right to say something like that?" She was giving the nurses a stare which would make the strongest General crumple at her feet.
The nurses sputtered, surprised at the major. They had always complained. What was so different now? Why was she acting like they murdered someone?
Luckily for them, Hawkeye burst through the doors, quickly taking Margaret to the side, holding her trembling form in his arms. He gave the nurses a mean look and waved them away. As they began to disappear, Margaret let a tear slip.
She had always been the strongest, the one to be strong and let others fall apart. She couldn't cry on anyone's shoulder; that would be showing weakness, that she couldn't control her emotions.
Margaret thought she had changed. But as she pushed Hawkeye out of the way and strode confidently into OR, she realized she hadn't changed as much as she thought.
Hawkeye just sighed. He had to find a way to get through to her, let her know she didn't need to be strong, she could confide in him. She had before, so he could make her again. He knew he was doing this for selfish reasons. She needed someone to confide in, anyone. Not him. But he felt close to her, and wanted to be close to her when she needed someone. Why he felt like this, he didn't know.
Colonel Potter frowned as he saw Margaret enter the OR. He should've known she wouldn't back down from doing her job. But he knew she was too emotional to be in here, even if she didn't show it.
He sighed. The patients' safety had to come first. With that thought, he whispered to Hawkeye, who was entering the OR.
"Hawkeye, what the hell is she doing in here?"
Hawkeye cringed. "Well, it seems as though Major Hotlips Houlihan takes over in painful situations. She doesn't seem to acknowledge she's in any pain. She just seems angry." He lowered his voice as he joined to assist the colonel, not wanting the situation to be unleashed and become common knowledge.
Colonel Potter looked down, into the bleeding heart of his patient. Then he looked up at Hawkeye, whispering his permission for Hawkeye to use any measure – even force, if necessary, to get their friend out of the operating room, and somewhere where she could vent.
Hawkeye knew he had to be quiet. He walked over to where Margaret was assisting BJ, resisting BJ's inquisitive glance. He leaned close to Margaret, whispering in her ear.
"Margaret, you need to get out of here." He knew to expect resistance.
"I will do no such thing, Captain". There it was. Proof that she was both angry and in pain. She called him Captain, something she hadn't called him in years. He had been Hawkeye.
But he never faltered, grabbing her hands, and giving BJ a look that said 'I'll tell later', pulled her out of the room, slightly surprised when she didn't resist much. But then he gathered that she must be exhausted.
"So, Margaret, I'm guessing your not speaking to me now?" He wasn't that surprised that he was the one her anger was directed to. He had been the one to tell her the news. It had to mean something.
He looked to her for some sign of emotion as she shrugged off her scrubs wordlessly, and he began to worry. Lines ran across his forehead as he sighed, opening the door for her to walk through.
Once they were in the open compound, she turned to look at him, seemingly ravishing the sight of him. She knew he wanted to comfort her, but was unsure of his intentions. He had bedded every nurse in the camp hadn't he? How was she supposed to know that he wasn't trying to do the same to her?
But, she reasoned with herself, he has been a good friend as of late. I think that we grew closer, in that time at the cave. She remembered how they had comforted each other when they were terrified – her of the shells, him of the closed-in space. They had needed each other.
Margaret decided that she could trust him, and allowed him to follow her inside as they reached her tent. But she couldn't muster the energy to talk. Margaret didn't know why she couldn't talk. It was as if talking was a sign that all this was actually real. She was living in a dream world at the moment, and talking, hearing her own voice, would assure her of the pain and torment of the real world.
So she silently went and sat on her seemingly steel cot, watching as Hawkeye seemed unsure. Worry lines still plagued his forehead, but he seemed glad for the moment that she wasn't shouting profanities around the camp.
He was unsure of what to do, but knew she needed someone. But he realized that the someone was obviously not him as she lay back on the cot, and in small mutters, uttered; "I want to be alone."
He accepted, not knowing what else he could do for her, and left the tent without another word.
