A Major Wager Chapter 25: The Domino Effect, a m*a*s*h fanfic

CHAPTER 25 – THE DOMINO EFFECT

After disappearing into her room for fifteen minutes or so, Margaret stood in the middle of the hotel hallway waiting on a still absent Hawkeye Pierce. Her hair had been arranged in soft waves around her face, her makeup refreshed and her brown blouse and skirt freshly pressed. She had even shined her major's gold oak leaf pin and caduceus pin.

"Hawkeye, are you coming out of there today?" she muttered, knocking on his door for the third time.

"One more second," he called out in reply.

"How can you be taking longer than me? Just throw the uniform on, Hawkeye," she fumed. "It's going to be over soon downstairs."

"Don't worry; I still hear the music through the floor," he called out. Several seconds passed in which she heard a sharp intake of breath. "Okay, now I'm ready."

It was then that Hawkeye opened the door in such a way that his entire body was revealed to her at one time. His uniform had been starched and his tie was perfectly straight, his collar pressed and patent brown leather shoes shined. She could tell by the dot of blood at his throat that he'd even shaved. He was even wearing his folded brown hat, which sat proudly upon his shiny dark hair.

"Oh my goodness, Hawkeye," she muttered, taken aback. "You look so—"

"So hairless—I know," he replied, rubbing his chin. "My face is like a baby's bottom and well, this hat is covering—"

"You look so… good," she interrupted.

"I was just about to say the same for you," he replied with a grin. "That skirt really becomes you. You need to show off those gams now and then—preferably with your feet up in the air."

"What are you saying, Captain?" she asked as innocently as possible while batting her eyelashes, very much loving the flattery.

"I'm saying that I can't be sure you've never looked better than you do right now until I get a closer look at you—a full body exam."

"Ha, you kidder," she replied coyly.

"I mean it, Margaret. I could be out of these clothes in a second if you'd say the word."

"You hate wearing that uniform as it is. Getting you out of it is no big feat."

"Well, you know what they say about guys with big feet," he began. "And if you don't, I can show you. Just say the word and I'll confirm the rumor."

"What about the music?" she asked. He flashed her a naughty grin.

"Don't worry; we'd have no problem drowning it out."

"No, what I mean is, are we going downstairs?" she inquired, her self-esteem skyrocketing from his compliments. This was like a dream. Never had she remembered Hawkeye looking so attractive. His dark blue eyes sparkled, his neatly combed hair shone, and he looked like quite the gentleman. Only she and the nurses of the 4077th knew better than to actually call him a gentleman.

"Of course, Major," he said with a knowing smile, extending his elbow to her. She slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow as they strode down the hallway arm in arm.

Couples danced in the ballroom of the Lotus Hotel to the sounds of Patti Page's 'Tennessee Waltz' as the handsome couple strode towards the bar in the back of the room.

"Never thought I'd hear the 'Tennessee Waltz' in Tokyo," Hawkeye remarked, as he paid for two glasses of wine.

"I never thought I'd be anything but unconscious right now," she replied.

"I think it was the fatigues that fatigued you," he commented.

Margaret turned to watch the dozens of couples dancing to the beautiful song as Hawkeye made small talk. She was glad to clear her head and feel like a woman again in such a formal setting. As they made their way for a table, she addressed her well-dressed date.

"Look at you; you're even more dolled up than I am," Margaret said.

"What are you talking about?" Hawkeye replied. "Dulled up is more like it. You look like a vision and I look like any of the other boring schmucks walking around tonight. I almost confused myself with one of the guys standing at the bar."

"You mean, that guy you randomly started talking to back there?"

"Yeah," he replied, grinning at her sheepishly. "I thought I was talking to myself."

They sat down at a small table to watch the well-dressed couples, some military, some civilian, spin around on the dance floor to the tune. It was far too late to join the dance now and so they sat in relative silence waiting for what was to come.

As soon as they'd finished their wine, a waltz streamed through the speakers and Margaret immediately grabbed Hawkeye's hand, leading him towards the dance floor.

"Oh, so you want to dance," he muttered, amused by her boldness. Several people looked up at them in surprise and also to admire the good-looking Army Medical Corps couple.

"Isn't that why we got all dressed up?" she replied. "Come on, this is the last time I'll be happy for at least 2400 hours."

"Ha, 2400 hours," he said with a chuckle. "You've been in the Army far too long," Hawkeye muttered. "Why not have a branch of the military in you, for once? I recommend a Captain."

"Hold your tongue," she cautioned. "This is a formal occasion."

"I'd rather you hold my tongue," he remarked. "Your mouth would be the best place for it."

She rolled her eyes and smiled at him, the usual reply to his flirtatious comments, and they stood together on the dance floor awkwardly standing beside each other.

The song had a minor intonation and was a rather sad-sounding tune that was very popular the year before. Even so, Margaret was all smiles, her teeth all out on display as she stood in the midst of the dance floor with Hawkeye, surrounded by couples beginning to waltz in turn.

"You like this song?" Hawkeye muttered, looking unsure, as the first words of Doris Day emerged through the arrangement. She positioned her hands correctly on his body and he followed suit. She placed her face at the juncture of Hawkeye's shoulder and neck as they began waltzing.

Domino, Domino, you're an angel that heaven has sent me,
Domino, Domino, you're a devil designed to torment me,
When your heart must know that I love you so,
Tell me why, tell me why, why do you make me cry, Domino

"Eh, I'll bet you anything that Domino fell for her immediately after she fell for him," Hawkeye murmured, flashing Margaret a cute little grin.

Margaret swooned at his joke. Even so, she felt a bit melancholy, for she couldn't help but tell herself the name Domino was interchangeable with "Hawkeye Pierce" in the context of Doris Day's lyrics. The handsome dark-haired surgeon had hurt her badly when he'd spurned her advances that fateful night in the abandoned hut, but she hadn't completely forgotten her feelings; she'd merely buried them in her psyche. He was charismatic, funny, and a talented surgeon and yet, that little mistake of a fling had forever prevented them from getting any closer.

In Hawkeye's well-dressed arms, the light scent of his masculine aftershave lingering on him, Margaret recalled her very deep feelings towards the surgeon. His lanky frame was more solid and far stronger than she would have originally presumed. Why had he never made an effort to continue from those beginnings of a relationship before that drunken stupor from the night before this? They would have been inseparable; she would have made him feel like the luckiest man in the world. And he could have made her the luckiest woman in the world for her snagging such a catch.

Domino, Domino, won't you tell me you'll never desert me?
Domino, Domino, if you stay I don't care how you hurt me,
Fate has made you so, you can't change, I know,
You can't change, though you try, but then neither can I, Domino

Instead Hawkeye had begun pursuing the next nurse mere days after that fling so long ago, the sight of the giggly pair a direct blow to her heart. Just like that, he'd moved on from her, just like he always had with everyone. By keeping their one-night affair under wraps, he had to behave as usual—which meant bedding down with yet another woman. He couldn't settle down and be satisfied to be in her arms alone, and she wasn't satisfied sharing him with others, and so it had never gone any further than that isolated evening.

"What kind of name is Domino, anyway?" he murmured to her. "What, is she singing to a Dalmatian?"

Laughter bubbled up inside of her and she buried her face in his shoulder to stifle the guffaw. It was bizarre to imagine the song being about a dog. She gave him a playful little slap to his shoulder and they continued to waltz, not missing a beat.

Just one look in your eyes and I melt with desire,
Just a touch of your hands and I burst into fire,
And my whole world fills with music when I'm lost in your embrace

Hawkeye wasn't quite as tall as Major Winchester, but he was far taller than Frank Burns and sturdily built. She'd always had her eye on the raven-haired surgeon and at this moment— this picture in time—she was in heaven. Surprisingly, the effect his gentlemanly appearance had on her was far stronger than she'd have ever thought possible. She'd always set her sights on the rogue men, the burly silent types who always had a sheen of dirt to their faces and a lack of care in their appearance, Sergeant Rizzo a noted exception. This attraction to such a different kind of man scared her, because not only was Hawkeye not the silent type, but he was also at the moment impeccably dressed and groomed. It was almost as if her short time with Major Winchester had altered her perceptions of what made a man attractive, for Major Winchester was the quintessential gentleman.

It was then, during the lyrics, that Hawkeye pulled himself slightly away from her so that he could look down at her, his blue eyes locking on hers. She closed her eyes for a moment in utter bliss at his intense gaze, wanting him to sweep her up in his arms, the future be damned.

"Margaret, do you wanna—"

"Shh," she replied, her smile intoxicating to him. He promptly quieted, unnerved by the gaze of pure unadultered love she was directing at him. He wondered if it was a reflection of his own gaze, and felt fear welling up inside. Why was she so unabashedly expressing this kind of emotion with him when she had insisted she would never be unfaithful to Charles? The look she was giving him alone at this moment was a direct offense against Major Winchester, a look that poured out every kind of romantic emotion that could be conjured in the depths of her ice blue eyes. She was falling for him. The question was, was he falling for her in turn? Was this 'Domino' song predicting their future?

Margaret looked unbelievably feminine and petite in her blouse and skirt, her heels clicking on the wooden dance floor, her hair in blonde cascades around her freshly made-up face, her hairstyle softening her jaw line. Her lips looked particularly kissable right about now, with a barely perceptible layer of glossy lipstick outlining their fullness. He'd all but forgotten the physical violence she doled out time after time, the shrillness of her voice when giving a command. Right now she was a particularly beautiful soft woman in his arms, a curvaceous woman gazing at him with astounding intensity, so much that he had to remind himself to breathe. He found himself wanting her so badly that it scared him.

But I know that you're fickle and I'm not misled,
Each attractive new face that you see turns your head,
And it scares me that tomorrow, someone else may take my place

After their gaze became almost too intense to bear, Hawkeye once again pulled Margaret against him so that they could no longer look at each other. A frown appeared on her face as she took in the lyrics. No matter what she and Hawkeye ended up doing this evening, someone else would certainly take her place, she thought with an inward scoff. Before her father was even in the ground, Hawkeye would be looking around for some other woman to tease. She'd never be satisfied in a relationship with Hawkeye Pierce. Firstly, he couldn't be serious for more than a minute at a time and most importantly, he was the classic commitment-phobe, a man to brazenly hit on anything resembling a female. She did wager, however, that no other nurse of the 4077th had danced with Hawkeye in his dress uniform. She had this moment to cherish forever in her heart, the night she waltzed with Hawkeye to a biographical tune. If only he knew how well the song described him, he probably would have skipped this dance.

Never did Margaret Houlihan expect that on the eve of her father's funeral, she'd be waltzing with a sharp-dressed Hawkeye Pierce in the ballroom of the Lotus Hotel, a mere twenty-four hours after she'd taken out her frustrations on an all-too-willing Charles Winchester. How could life be so unpredictable?

Domino, Domino, I'll forgive anything that you do,
Domino, Domino, nothing matters if I have you.

As the dance ended, Hawkeye gave her a little bow, scrunching up his face with an impatient grin. She smiled back at him, his impatience not lost on her.

"So how about that room service?" he finally said, feeling a bit light-headed from all the dancing they'd done. "I'd like to further my lotus-opening skills."

She rolled her eyes at his blatant innuendo.

Dancing and dressing up was not something Hawkeye normally partook in. He was more likely to enjoy a romantic rendezvous in the minefield or in the supply room with a few stolen candles as the sole source of light and him the sole entertainment for the evening, his words leading his date ever-closer to that most intimate of embraces. He was more likely to do the horizontal tango than this fancy waltzing, and he was far better at it. Besides, he wanted Margaret so badly that it was beginning to physically pain him.

"Alright, Captain Pierce," she said with a nod. "Let us retire for the evening."

With that, she hooked her arm in his and they strode out of the ballroom.

"Wait—are you telling me you served in Germany?"

"Got over there in '45, right before Hitler offed himself," she said with a nod. She'd since finished up a pair of sandwiches Hawkeye had had delivered to the room as well as two glasses of pilfered scotch and was finding herself to be extremely relaxed. They sat in two puffy armchairs in Hawkeye's suite, an upscale room with beautiful black and white area rugs and a definite kind of mood lighting. He'd since finished off his third martini and sat gawking at her as she spoke so casually of her dangerous station.

"Did you have any casualties?"

"We were instructed to aid the Allied forces only. I was just a lieutenant at that point, so I was only able to assist in about a third of the casualties that came through us. Mostly Russians; they were like a human battering ram, you know? Pushing the Axis westward."

"Wow—back in '45 I was in Guam. Bet I saw a lot less action than you did, though I did patch up more Japanese than I ever thought possible. Sometimes I felt like I was fighting for the other side. Probably how I was actually able to get the free room service here."

"Could be," she said with a shrug. "Maybe someone recognized you."

At seeing a smile flicker across Margaret's face, Hawkeye was encouraged.

"See, Margaret? There's no need to be so wound up all the time. Relax. No casualties, no Mess Tent, just a nice cushy bed and room service."

"Well, room service for you, at least."

"I wasn't blessed with these surgically precise hands for nothing," he replied with a smile, showing off his hands. "Opening paper loti is my true forte."

"And definitely not mine—ha, that reminds me of a funny story," she replied. "During the time I lived at Fort Ord, my dad brought home a dog. It was such a stupid idea—of course we'd have to get rid of it when he got transferred again. It was a little thing, some kind of mutt—we called it Sarge. Would tear up my mother's attempts at gardening at the very first sign of a flower. It wasn't until we moved to Fort Benning that we were able to even have flowers in our yard. That's only because we arrived there in the spring, right after the last family moved out. After we left Fort Ord, my mother never let us have a dog again." She shrugged. "I guess Sarge's flower-tearing skills rubbed off on me."

"My dad never was much for gardening," Hawkeye replied. "After Mom died, he had to take over the job of both parents, and being a doctor and a gardener on top of that would have been too much."

Margaret gave him a look of surprise and pity.

"You mean, you never had any flowers in your yard?"

"One. My mom had planted a peony before she died and it came back every year after that. At first I hated it because I felt it was mocking me, outliving my mother. Eventually, though, I looked forward to smelling those big flowers. The smell reminded me of my mom's perfume. Peonies were her favorite."

"Oh, Hawkeye…." Margaret murmured, full of sympathy. He wasn't finished speaking.

"Really though, a plant can die every year and come right back the next spring and a person is… just gone. Why can't we be perennials?"

"I know," Margaret murmured, looking melancholy, her head resting on her hands. "It isn't fair."

"It isn't. And even so, we're still hoping it'll happen. I mean, we bury our dead—just like a bulb—but they don't come back in the spring."

When Hawkeye looked over at her, tears were streaming from Margaret's eyes. She was silently crying, wiping her tears away as subtly as possible. Hawkeye stood up instinctively and walked over to her chair, kneeling down in front of it as he gazed up at her with an earnest expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Margaret. I shouldn't say things like that on the eve of a funeral. That was stupid of me."

She wiped away more tears, looking embarrassed.

"It's not your fault. I just don't think it's truly hit me yet. I looked up to that man. My father was my basis for my entire existence. What the hell am I going to do now that he's dead?"

"I'm gonna tell you what you're gonna do, Margaret; you're gonna keep living your life. You're gonna do your job in Korea and when the war is over you're gonna go back to the States, settle down, and have some kids. Maybe you'll work as a civilian nurse, maybe not. Your life is yours and always has been."

"But—"

"Your life was never your father's," he interrupted. "You live it as you want to, not according to the standards of someone else."

"I love the Army," she replied, sniffling. "It's been my family for so long."

"Well, that's good," he said. "But don't love it just because you're expected to."

"In case you haven't realized, there are aspects of my life that are totally my own: my marriage and divorce to Donald, my affair with Frank—"

"And Charles," Hawkeye added quickly. She looked at him with puzzlement.

"I would hardly call that an affair," she retorted, scoffing.

"Why's that? Because he's not married?"

"No, Hawkeye. Because I'm not really with him with him. I needed to vent and he just happened to be there at the time. If there was anything there, it's gone now."

Hawkeye was intrigued over the statement. So she was changing her story yet again. Is that why she so unabashedly gazed into his eyes this evening? Had she used the façade of a relationship with Charles to make him jealous? Well, it had definitely worked.

"Oh, really," he replied in as unaffected a voice as possible.

"Yes, Hawkeye. Do you honestly think I could settle down with the likes of him? He's far too pompous for my taste."

Pierce swallowed at her reply.

"Is that all?"

"Why do you care so much?" she shot. He got up off his haunches, effectively putting him eye to eye with the blonde nurse, his expression as serious as she'd ever seen it.

"I just do, Margaret."

"Oh, is that so?" she replied in a low voice, smiling at him. He grinned right back at her.

"Would I lie to you?"

"You better not," she muttered lowly. The look he was giving her was irresistible, his blue eyes earnest but mouth smirking naughtily. She found herself leaning forward as he mimicked the motion, their lips uniting in a blissfully deep kiss.

Thanks to hippiechick19 and GetOnTheIce for their feedback, which pushed this next chapter out very quickly! Now, as for the rest of you readers, I want to know what you think, so don't be shy! I've written almost 100,000 words so far for your reading enjoyment and I want to hear your 10 words or so in reply! Do you like the H/M? Do you have any other comments? Please—even if it's a word, even if it's anonymous, I'd really like to hear from you!

NOTE: The idea that Hawkeye was stationed in Guam came from the Season 2 episode "Mail Call" in which he indicated the Korean War was his second war (which would mean that WWII was his first)(and just as a fun fact, my grandfather was stationed in Guam, my other grandfather in Japan)