Margaret sighed as she stared at the engine of the jeep, wondering if her day could possibly get any worse. She glanced sideways at Pierce who was staring dumbly at the insides of the car and she felt tears welling up behind her eyes. Why had she decided to come? The last thing she needed was to be stranded with her ex-husband behind enemy lines. She wasn't sure if she should be more afraid of Pierce or the Koreans.
She angrily began kicking at the car and Hawkeye groaned. "I tried that already."
Margaret gave up kicking and attacked the insides of the jeep once again.
"Margaret, face it, the patient is dead! Why don't we pull a sheet over its headlights and move on." Hawkeye had noticed tears in her eyes that were threatening to spill. He wondered what was in her letter that could have upset her so much. He tensed as he heard Korean shouts and he quickly touched Margaret's arm.
He ran to the back of the jeep and grabbed their bags before grabbing Margaret's hand and pulling her into the bushes.
Margaret closed her eyes as she heard them rattling around in the jeep. Hawkeye had pulled her close to him and she could smell his cologne mixed with gin and she felt her tears building up again. Here she was in the middle of a field, hiding from people who wouldn't think twice about killing her and the only thing she could thing she could think about was that Donald only smelt of dust and metal.
A soldier approached and Hawkeye tightened his grip on Margaret. The man began poking around in the bushes and Hawkeye offered a prayer to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in. He heard the engine of the jeep start and he breathed a sigh of relief as the soldier stopped searching the area and ran back to the vehicle.
As soon as they drove away Margaret shook off Hawkeye's grip and stared at him angrily.
"I hope you're not blaming me for that." Hawkeye said, noting her furious look.
"How can a grown man be so mechanically incompetent?" she screeched.
He put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I take a lot of cabs."
Hours later Margaret unfolded her letter and began to re-read it for the thousandth time. Hawkeye's singing was distracting her and she shot a furious glance his way. "Will you stop that?"
"It's a civil war marching song," he whined.
"Not another idiotic note!"
"I'm just trying to be military."
Margaret turned her attention back to her letter and Hawkeye watched her curiously as she huffed and grunted several times.
"You know you shouldn't read while you walk," he interrupted her. "It makes you grunt."
"Oh but out you…" she seethed. "…you, you can't even fix a simple case of engine trouble! What kind of a man are you!" Margaret was desperately trying to find reasons why Donald was much more of a man than Hawkeye would ever be. She was having immense trouble doing so.
"Certainly not a service man," Hawkeye said, wondering what he did to evoke her wrath.
"In more ways than one!" she shouted back.
"Come here," Hawkeye reached his arm out and Margaret jumped back as if it were a snake.
"Where are you going?" she sighed as he beg walking in a different direction.
"There's a YMCA over here," he said, motioning to a small hut in shambles. "Let's see if we can check in for the night." Hawkeye had been looking into the woods for any sign of a cave or some sort of shelter, and this certainly looked better than anything else they could find.
"This place is perfect!" he said as he walked inside, Margaret following nervously behind him. "A handyman's delight!"
"I'm not staying here!" Margaret insisted, clutching her bag tightly. "This place is a perfect target."
"Margaret, somebody is obviously using this as a registration point. They're not going to destroy their own benchmark." He sat down and began searching through his bag.
"That's right," Margaret said, taken aback. "I didn't think you knew anything military."
I learned it in the movies," Hawkeye lied. "Abbott and Costello Meet Hitler." He sighed and walked to the window. "I just don't want to walk around out there while it's raining artillery shells." He looked out the window and jumped for his medical bag.
"Margaret, stay where you are, I'll be back in a minute."
Not one to follow directions, Margaret hurried to the window, where she spotted a wounded Korean soldier.
"You're not going out there!" she pleaded. "You just said it was raining artillery shells!"
"I'll run between the drops," he retorted as he ran for the door.
"I'm coming with you," she said firmly, determined to go wherever he went.
"Oh no, every time we try and do something together we have a twenty minute debate about it."
"I won't argue with you," she promised, realizing she didn't want to be left alone. "Just keep low," Hawkeye bent down and she pushed on his back. "Lower!" she insisted.
"I'll dig a tunnel," he said, turning back towards her.
"You know absolutely nothing about soldiering!" Margaret defended.
"I do not want to discuss my every move with you!"
"I'm not saying anything!" Margaret sighed and dropped her bag to the floor. "Fine, I'll stay; do it your way."
Hawkeye turned to go outside just as another shell hit nearby and Margaret grabbed his arm. "Just stay low!"
Hawkeye groaned and hurried towards the soldier as Margaret hurled instruction his way the entire time. Hawkeye checked the young man's pulse and sighed deeply when he couldn't find one. He turned the boy back over just as rocks and debris went everywhere.
"What are you doing?" Margaret screamed. "Get out of there!" Hawkeye stood up and made his way to the hut, coughing in the thick dust.
"What's the matter with you?" Margaret yelled. Hawkeye pushed past her, missing the tears in her eyes. "You go out there and risk your life and then come back without him?"
Hawkeye threw his bag down on a small table and turned towards her slowly. "He's dead," he muttered quietly, seeing her tears.
"Are they for me?"
A shell landed against the outside wall of the hut and Hawkeye threw Margaret onto the ground and debris rained around them. Once the dust cleared Hawkeye pulled himself up and winced.
"Alright, you can get off me now," Margaret said coolly, keenly aware of his every movement.
"Yeah well…"
"You better get off me, buster!" she yelled loudly, not liking what his closeness was doing to her.
"I've got something stuck in my leg."
"Oh my God," Margaret pulled herself out from under him.
"Well this day certainly has gotten worse."
She ripped his pants and Hawkeye grinned. "Margaret, there's no time for that now; look at my wound."
"Oh knock it off," she commanded. "You're hurt. Do you want some morphine?"
"How bad is it?" he asked, unsure if he wanted an answer. "I can barely feel it."
"You've got a piece of wood stuck in your leg; do you want me to take it out?"
"Say no, say no, please say no."
"Of course I do!" he shouted, trying to keep from passing out. "If I want a souvenir I'll go to a gift shop."
"I'm going to put some alcohol on it; it might sting." Margaret took a deep breath and poured the liquid onto his legs, receiving loud scream from Hawkeye.
"Stop twisting!" she ordered. "You're making this very difficult."
"Forget it," he said quickly. "Leave it in."
Margaret nervously tried to get a hold on the wood with a pair of tweezers. She was starting to realize just how much pain he was in. "Just hold still! I can't get a hold of it and I don't want to make things worse."
Margaret finally managed to grab at the wood and pull it out. "There," she declared as she breathed a sigh of relief; his leg wasn't even bleeding too badly. "It's out. Do you want to look at it?"
"Don't be morbid, just clean my leg and out a dressing on it."
"Alright, but it's going to hurt a little; do you want some morphine?"
"Will you stop pushing the morphine?"
Margaret sighed and gave up. "Alright, but this is going to hurt."
A spasm shot down his leg and Hawkeye screamed. "I haven't even touched you yet," Margaret said in disgust.
Hawkeye chuckled and shrugged. "Just practicing."
When she finished bandaging his leg, he pulled himself up and hobbled over to a chair. "The sun's going down," Margaret said sullenly as she followed him. Hawkeye caught her flat tone and sighed.
"Everything's going to work out, Margaret."
She nodded slightly. "Listen, I want to apologize for insisting we go on when we started getting shelled."
"Oh that's alright," he said, beginning to pace the room to get his leg to stop throbbing. "You come from a long leg of military people. Insanity is hereditary."
Margaret sighed, "I probably deserved that."
"No you don't, I was being kind."
Margaret turned around, raising her voice defensively. "I was upset, I wasn't thinking clearly!"
Hawkeye could read her like a book and he knew she wasn't telling him everything. "What's eating you anyway? Is it the letter? What's in it?"
"Never mind!" she shouted, knowing he could usually get any information he wanted out of her.
Hawkeye began to laugh and she looked at him, slightly hurt. "What are you laughing about?"
"I was just thinking how sorry you are going to be that you were mean to me when you see what I brought."
"Probably a bottle of that liquid rat poison of yours," she said sarcastically.
"Ha-ha on you," Hawkeye said as he pulled a glass bottle from his bag. "Japanese scotch."
"Ohh," Margaret said feeling foolish. "So how good could that be?"
"How good does it have to be?" he asked, handing her the bottle.
"Is that cup clean?" she asked as Hawkeye handed one to her.
"It can't be too dirty," inspecting the cup. "Whatever is on the bottom is still alive."
Margaret smiled slightly and grabbed the glass, filling it to the top. She took a hesitant sip and Hawkeye smiled at her. Margaret felt her stomach lurch and she looked down at the table.
"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?" she asked quietly.
"I was about to ask you the same question."
"I don't like the war you know!" she said defensively. "I hate it! I hate the destruction, the stupidity of the waste, the disruption of personal lives…" Her voice cracked and she knew she had better stop before she completely fell apart.
Hawkeye surveyed her closely and shook his head sadly. "Margaret, what's in the letter?"
His voice was so quiet, and so caring Margaret felt herself loosening up. She didn't know if she could trust him. With the small information the letter contained he could either comfort her, which was unlikely. Or make her life a living hell. She took a deep breath and took the letter out of her pocket.
"Don't do it you idiot!" Margaret panicked and quickly began to backtrack.
"Ah well," she began sarcastically. "It probably would hand you a laugh actually," she said cynically as she unfolded the letter. "For instance…"
"My dear Darlene…"
Hawkeye looked at her blankly. "Is that your nickname?"
"No!"
"Then why is he calling you Darlene?"
"He's not calling me Darlene! He put this letter in the wrong envelope." Margaret paused and looked across the table at Hawkeye, picking apart his every movement.
He looked over at her, his eyes full of pain. Not for himself, but for her. Margaret's eyes filled with tears and she hurriedly looked down at the letter and began to continue. She knew he wouldn't hurt her; not tonight anyway. For tonight she had a friend.
this is chapter 9... duh. I have ten and eleven all typed out. ) If I get eight reviews I'll update! (isn't blackmail great?) I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
MajorBaby
