Chapter 12---Here's the latest chapter of this FF story. I hope you like it, thanks for reading and thanks for the feedback.
Both Margaret and Hawkeye looked up at a very somber Colonial Potter.
"What is it now," Hawkeye asked, "Don't tell me that peace talks have broken down again."
"Pierce," Margaret said.
"Okay, then it must be how we're not going to be getting the latest Esther Williams picture," Hawkeye said, resting his chin on his hands.
"Let him talk," Margaret said.
"Please don't tell me that Sophie got colic again," Hawkeye said, brushing his hand over his forehead, "That camp-wide enema was a one-time thing. Next one is going to cost you."
Potter looked at both of them before responding and patiently waited until Hawkeye had stopped talking. Fortunately, Hawkeye got the hint quicker than he usually did and closed his mouth.
"You know the pharmaceutical salesman that was supposed to come out and sell us on some brand new medicine?"
"Yeah, I heard a rumor someone was coming," Hawkeye said, dryly.
Potter sipped what passed for coffee at the 4077th.
"Well I just got off the horn with HQ and he's laid up sick with the measles."
Hawkeye harrumphed.
"Some drug store salesman he is, if he can't even stay healthy."
"Pierce," Margaret scolded, "Let him continue…"
Hawkeye slunk back in his seat.
"So what are they going to do Colonial," Margaret asked.
Potter sighed.
"His business partner will be coming in his stead," he said, "Now he doesn't have as much experience as this guy but I heard he's pretty good."
Hawkeye just sat there not looking all that impressed.
"It's his medicine that needs to be good," Hawkeye said, "It doesn't matter who's hawking it. I'll take anything that works."
Margaret nodded.
"I have to agree with Pierce," she said, "We really need some new treatments on some of the cases that have come through lately."
Hawkeye dug into his grits.
"Like the man in post-op who's in a coma," he said, "Father Mulcahy's taken a special interest in him and it's probably his encouragement that's the reason this man has lived this long because I can't seem to find anything else to give him."
"Another traumatic head injury," Potter asked.
Hawkeye nodded.
"We're probably still going to lose him by sunset."
"Pierce, you know that not every patient can be saved," Potter said, "but I know how much you don't like hearing that."
"Let's just say I'm never going to invite the Grim Reaper to the Swamp for a drink and leave it at that."
"Fair enough," Potter said, "But this salesman is coming to the camp at 0900 tomorrow and I expect all of you to be on your best behavior and to serve as good hosts to our guest."
Margaret narrowed her eyes at Hawkeye.
"Which of course means that you and B.J. aren't going to show up in your ratty bathrobes."
Hawkeye threw a shocked look.
"You mean we got to dress up in our formal Sunday suits for this occasion?"
Potter looked from one of them to the other, deciding he didn't have time for this foolishness today.
"The two of you had better bury the hatchet by tomorrow morning," Potter said, "I've got enough to worry about in this camp without the two of you launching the next World War."
Hawkeye looked at Margaret.
"I think I can uphold my part in ensuring that nothing but peace and tranquility enrich this camp during this man's visit," he said, "Of course, that's kind of difficult to do in the middle of a war."
"Pierce," she said, then turned towards Potter, "You have my upmost support, you know that. Anyone in this camp that gives you trouble, I'll snap him out of it with this."
Margaret formed a fist and shook it. Hawkeye just looked at her.
"You're not planning to hit anyone with that," he said, "because if you did, it would really shatter this image I have of you."
She fired him an annoyed look.
"Do you want to step to the front of the line?"
Hawkeye turned to Potter.
"She's certainly testy isn't she?"
Potter almost rolled his eyes but stopped short, remembering that you had to get a couple of stars on your collar before you could get away with that.
"Well, Pierce are you going to behave," Potter asked wearily.
Hawkeye's face turned serious.
"Of course I will Colonial," he said, "You know you can count on me for setting a moral example…"
Margaret tried not to laugh.
"Can it Pierce," she said, "I'll keep an eye on him Colonial."
Hawkeye's mouth broke into a leering smile.
"I like the sound of that," he said, giggling.
Potter just shook his head at two of his command staff members and got up to leave. Margaret and Hawkeye watched him go.
"He's got the world on his shoulders," Margaret said.
"At least they're nice shoulders," Hawkeye said, picking up a sausage and hoping he wouldn't break a tooth on it.
Now Margaret loved a great pair of shoulders. Her ex-husband Donald Penobscot, cheating louse that he had proven to be, owned an impressive pair that she loved to grab a hold of when they slow danced on their honeymoon. That is, after they had broken him out of that fake plaster cast that Hawkeye and B.J. had sealed him up inside of as a practical joke on her wedding day.
B.J. also had impressive shoulders but his belonged to his beloved Peg so they and he were off-limits. As for Hawkeye himself…not bad. They almost made up for the rest of him.
Then there was him…
They walked through the small park with the gazebo in the center. The rain began to fall in earnest, a gentle reminder of the monsoon season which would strike Korea to the West soon enough. He grabbed her hand in his own and they rushed to seek shelter beneath the gazebo. When they got there, they laughed at themselves and he reached to stroke a wet tendril of hair off of her face.
"That was a pretty close call," he said.
"Yeah it sure was," she said, just looking into his face.
"You look beautiful with the rain dripping off of you," he said, drawing her into an embrace. She went eagerly into his arms. Their lips met and Margaret didn't want to let go of him but finally she did and looked into his eyes.
"Running into you in the restaurant was the best thing that's happened to me in a long time," she said.
He stroked her hair.
"It's interesting how life works, isn't it," he said, "Who would have thought we would have met again under such different circumstances?"
"This has been really nice," she said, "for the first time, it's going to be hard for me to come off leave."
"Oh Margaret…"
Margaret
She looked up suddenly and saw Hawkeye staring at her.
"What is it," she asked, annoyed to have been dragged out of her reverie.
"I was going to ask you if you wanted any more coffee," he said.
She gazed at him suspiciously.
"You're not going to put…anything funny in it are you?"
He looked offended and pointed to his chest.
"Who me?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Yes you, Pierce," she said, "You are always trying to pull one over on me but I think I can get my own coffee."
She got up to do just that. He watched her go, shaking his head and then he saw Charles heading towards him with his tray.
"Hey Charles," he yelled, "Come and sit over here. I have something to tell you."
Charles just gave him a withering glance.
"Surely, you jest."
Hawkeye spread out his arms.
"I'm not kidding," he said, "I need your opinion on a medical procedure."
Charles brows lifted and his mouth dropped open slightly as he looked at Hawkeye, but he did move in his direction.
"Margaret wouldn't even accept a cup of coffee from me," Hawkeye said.
Charles smirked.
"Smart woman," he said, "So what did you want to ask me?"
Hawkeye paused.
"What do you think of that salesman coming out to the 4077th tomorrow morning?"
Charles sighed.
"Oh that," he said, "Pierce, I think it will be wonderful if this gentleman of pharmaceuticals can provide us with anything that can help us with casualties but…"
"You have your doubts," Hawkeye finished.
"Well…"
"What is it," Hawkeye asked, leaning forward.
Charles wasn't sure why Hawkeye his perennial nemesis was interested in his response. Suspicion filled him.
"There are no miracle cures," he said, "and anyone who suggests otherwise is probably a charlatan of the worst kind."
"Fair enough," Hawkeye said, "So if this…salesman promises a miracle cure, you'll show him the door?"
"If it works…no," Charles said, "Then I'll try to find out who holds the patent on it."
"That's the way to go," Hawkeye said, "always thinking with your wallet."
"What about you," Charles said, "If he really produced a miracle drug, say one that could reverse the deterioration towards death of your comatose patient, what would you do?"
"Give it to my patient," Hawkeye said, "and then do whatever else it takes to save him. I'm a doctor."
Margaret returned to the table with her coffee.
"You both look so serious," she said.
Hawkeye shrugged.
"Winchester and I were just discussing the joys of capitalism," he said, "Winchester views life-saving medication as something to pad his bank account with and I disagree with that."
Margaret looked at Winchester, sharply.
"This salesman hasn't even stepped foot in this camp yet, let alone shown us any life-saving medications and you're already trying to make money off of it?"
Charles sniffed.
"You're both making it sound much worse than it is," he said, "after all, do you think this vendor is coming to our camp showing us his wares out of the goodness of his heart or to make some money?"
Hawkeye and Margaret looked at each other.
"I guess that's one thing we're going to find out," he said.
The man finished speaking and left the podium while waves of people sitting in the audience filled the room with applause. Margaret looked over at Kellye .
"So what do you think of this guy?"
Kellye felt a loss of words.
"He sounds like a miracle worker," she said.
Margaret felt a wave of emotion sweep through her.
"I thought that at one time," she said, "Now I'm not so sure."
Kellye stood up.
"Let's go up and talk to him before he leaves."
Margaret hesitated.
"No…no, I'd rather not," she said, "I'm starving, why don't we go to lunch and catch up on what we've been doing since we got home."
Kellye looked at her a while, then nodded. The two women got up to leave and proceeded through the crowd to the exit, not seeing the man coming at them from the opposite direction.