Hawkeye swirls the remainder of the martini around in his glass before downing the rest of it. It's Henry's last night in camp, and he's running out of reasons not to get completely drunk in the spirit of feeling sorry for himself.
"Hey Hawkeye," Henry's drank enough that his voice is slurring.
Hawkeye turns his attention to him with false seriousness. "Yes, Henry."
"I always meant to ask, how was it that you ended up with Houlihan anyway? What-," Henry's words are cut short as he hiccups, "how on earth did you manage to get her to even let you touch her?"
"Well first you take a man and a woman, and then you-"
"Pierrrrrce," Henry whines like a child.
"Okay, Okay. All I did was ask her to dance, and then, like all good dates, I grabbed her ass, and one thing led to another..."
Trapper chimes in, his generous dose of alcohol up until now having made him quiet and contemplative as he fiddles with his swizzle stick. "It was not a date."
"No," Hawkeye concedes, "It wasn't. Still the best night of my life, though."
"That good, huh?" Henry chuckles, "I swear there wasn't a tent in camp that couldn't hear you guys. When's she due again?"
"In a couple of weeks."
"A couple of weeks. Wow." Henry breathes out, his voice containing all the wonder of a drunk man.
Hawkeye doesn't respond. He's resigned himself to the fact that he's not going to be magically discharged in time for the birth, but it doesn't stop the chip on his shoulder from getting heavier every time someone mentions it.
"Hey Henry, how old's your youngest now?" Trapper says, in an attempt to move the spotlight off his obviously uncomfortable friend.
"He's, uhhh, a bit over one now."
"Time really flies when you're not having fun," Hawkeye deadpans, his eyes still fixed on his glass.
"I wish I could take you guys home with me. I feel awful guilty that I get to get out of here and you guys don't."
"Yeah, well."
Radar comes running into the club, "Sirs! Captain Pierce, sir!"
Hawkeye sits bolt upright. "What is it, Radar?"
"Message for you from home."
A hush falls over the club, everybody well aware of the news Radar might be about to deliver.
"Audrey Sylvia Pierce born January 13th at 11.45pm. 7lbs 9oz. Lots of black hair. Margaret and baby doing great. Congratulations. Love, dad."
"She's early!"
A cheer goes up and there's a smattering of applause, but Hawkeye doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy choking back tears. A baby, he has a baby. A baby that's thousands of miles away, but a baby nonetheless.
Trapper gives him a brisk hug and slaps him on the back. "Congrats, Hawk."
"Yeah, congrats!" Henry says sincerely, slurring his words. "Somebody get this man a cigar! Oh, and Radar, come join us."
"Um, I would sir, but no one else will watch the phone."
"Bring the, whatchamacallit, the one that doesn't need to be plugged in."
"The field telephone, sir?"
"That's the one."
"So," Trapper says, turning to Hawkeye, "Who's she named after?"
"No idea on the first name, but Sylvia was my mother's name."
"Better than Daniel Jr."
"Much better."
The next morning goes off without a hitch, and Henry lifts off into the air and over the hills as Hawkeye, Trapper and Radar wave him off from the helipad.
Trapper speaks as they squint into the morning sun, "Hopefully next time that'll be us. God knows we've earned it."
"We've got more chance of them serving gourmet food in the mess tent. Hey Radar, what are the chances of me getting a line to Maine sometime later today?"
"Uh, pretty good...Uh oh…"
"What?" But he already knows what. The answer is always the same. More wounded. More blood to add to the never ending red tide. They begin their descent from the helipad with Radar streaking back to camp to warn the others.
Hawkeye found he was increasingly glad the baby had turned out to be a girl. So far the army had only ever drafted men, though, if she was anything like her mother she'd probably be one of the first to volunteer. Hawkeye allows himself the pre surgery luxury of a moment lost in thought. He's having a hard time visualising what his daughter will be like. Audrey. She's no longer an abstract concept. She's real, alive, out in the world and taking breath, but he's so far away, has been so removed from everything other than her creation, that to him, at least she remains in the realm of the surreal. He tries again, this time picturing a tiny, face with a rosy little mouth, the soft, pale skin of her mother, and a crown of unruly black hair. So very small, so very fragile, and already so demanding, so sure of what she wants. He feels his heart swell and crack simultaneously.
Trapper gives his strangely silent friend a once-over, "You okay, Hawk?"
"What? Oh yeah, I'm fine," he says as they continue down the hill.
It's five hours later when Radar stumbles into the OR, seemingly oblivious to the yells for him to don a mask. Hawkeye pauses, he's up to his elbows in bowel. Shit, now what? "Hey Radar, if that's my discharge give it to me straight!" He yells across the room in an attempt to relieve the mounting pressure, but Radar doesn't seem to hear.
Radar opens his mouth, his voice wobbling. "I have a message." Radar stops, taking a deep but shaky breath, "Lieutenant Colonel Henry Blake's plane," Radar gulps, "was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in...There were no survivors."
It feels like the air has been sucked out of the room. Hawkeye's head spins as he tries to keep his hands steady. His reality threatens to warp. It had never occurred to him, he had never wanted it to occur to him that a man could be killed in the crossfire of the war after he'd been set free.
The moment surgery ends Hawkeye snaps off his gloves and barges through to Radar's office without kid's a wreck, sitting on his bed, with tears streaming down his face. Hawkeye doesn't ask how he is, he can't. It feels too much like if he stops his world will collapse, too. "Radar, I need a line to Bridgton Hospital, Maine and I need it right away." Hawkeye paces the small room in hurried, jagged strides.
"But it's the middle of the night there!"
"I don't care, Radar, I need to speak with Margaret. Now how would you like that phone embedded in your skull?"
Radar hurriedly starts dialling. "Hello Sparky? Yeah, I got an urgent call to put through to-"
"Bridgton Hospital, Maine," Hawkeye interjects with impatience.
"You hear that? Bridgton Hospital, Maine. It's ringing," Radar says, handing the receiver to him.
"Hello? Yes I know what time it is. Don't you dare hang up. I'm calling from Korea-" Hawkeye's cut off by the person on the other end of the phone.
"Yes I'm Margaret's husband. Trust me, she'll be more upset if you don't wake her, we haven't seen each other in almost nine months!" There were some benefits to it being such a small hospital.
"I didn't know you two were married," Radar whispers, scandalised.
Hawkeye covers the mouthpiece with his hand, rolling his eyes, "We're not, we're pretending." A familiar voice breaks through on the other end. "Hello, Margaret, is that really you?" His eyes are wide. He forgets, for a moment, to breathe.
"It's you, oh my god." He feels the tears on his face before he even realises he's crying.
"Am I okay? Well, now that you mention it, I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you. Henry Blake is dead. He got discharged, his plane got shot out of the sky."
He listens as Margaret gasps and burst into tears and is conscious of every one of the oceans between them. He marvels at just how far their relationship has come since that fateful night.
"Oh Margaret...But enough about this stupid war. Tell me about you, tell me about our precious bundle! God I've missed you." He sighs, his shoulders relaxing as he listens to her rattle off some details about the birth.
"Oh she has a temper, does she, and it's my fault?" He laughs with good natured incredulity.
Radar, who's been hovering nervously for the entire call steps forward. "Uh, Hawk, they're gonna cut you off."
Hawkeye nods without turning his attention from Margaret "What? Oh just the army about to cut us off." His heart leaps when hears a baby's shrill cry on the other end of the phone. "That's her?" He chokes up as it's confirmed that it is, indeed, his daughter.
"Fifteen seconds."
"Listen, I gotta go." He wipes the tears from his eyes. "I love you too," he says tenderly, solemnly, trying to give the words as much gravity as he can. The line goes dead. Hawkeye hands the phone back to Radar, looking every bit as broken as he feels.
"Thanks, Radar." He mumbles before turning quickly and leaving the room.
Radar lets out a large exhale of breath, leaning forward with his elbows on his desk, fingers pressed to his lips thoughtfully.
He has an idea, only he's not entirely sure it's the good kind, not after today. After a moment's pause he turns back to the phone again before placing another call. "Hello Sparky? Yeah, it's me again. Listen, I was wondering if you could put me through to Sergeant Johnson down at I-Corps. Yeah that's the one, the guy who owes me a favour..."