A/N: Thank you so much, atperhach, bobcatwriter, Elena, and all the readers and reviewers! Hawkeye is now officially in the story! Please let me know what you think!
CHAPTER 12 – THE CALL
"Hello?"
Somehow Margaret had managed to sleep in until nearly ten in the morning, to be woken up by the loud ringing of her telephone. Her eyes still closed, she sandwiched the receiver between her ear and shoulder, murmuring a gravelly greeting.
"Margaret, is that you?" the all-too-familiar voice answered.
"It's me alright. How are you doing?" she replied in a too-casual voice, instantly feeling stupid for uttering such a line. The last time she'd spoken to him aloud had been in their equally casual farewell following their extended goodbye kiss.
"Did you get my letter? I'd hoped it would get there before my voice did."
"I did. Thanks for the heads-up. It's good to hear from you."
"And you as well. I was half-expecting you to be working through the weekend."
"Believe it or not, Charles is the one who's been working weekends."
"Is that right? Huh. He always hated working weekends."
"Weird—right?"
"Is he working this weekend too?"
"No, he's not," she replied, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "In fact, lately he's been trying to distance himself from—"
"Lemme guess; from his ending up in an even higher tax bracket due to his overtime wages," Pierce replied quickly, not pressing the subject further. "You know, J. Paul Getty's supposed to be in that bracket all by himself."
Right," Margaret said, chuckling at Hawkeye's remark. That was certainly not true anymore, what with Charles's family cutting him off from much of his inheritance.
"So, uh, how's civilian life treating you?"
Before Margaret had left the Langham yesterday evening in a taxi Charles had ordered for her, they'd discussed how they would break the news of their relationship to Pierce. And yet, the obvious time to segue into that just come—and gone. Just the idea of her revealing news would surely shock the dark-haired captain, making him much less likely to want to come to Boston to visit. Not only that, but the longer they spoke without mentioning their own passionate kiss, the more awkward this chat would become.
"Oh, civilian life is just swell," she answered. "Not only are the surgeries scheduled, but there is no limit to supplies and more autoclaves than you can shake a stick at. It's unbelievable how different civilian and military hospitals are."
"I meant civilian life in general, Margaret. I'm sure your wardrobe has already grown ten-fold, not to mention your getting used to be referred to by your given name and not your rank."
"You're right about that. Now I'm Nurse Houlihan and it's true that I can wear all sorts of outfits now, not to mention makeup! No more drab army green for me! What about you—how are you adjusting?"
"Oh, it's going well enough, I guess," Hawkeye replied, his voice uncharacteristically forlorn. "Lots of down-time. It's weird not having roomies anymore—that's probably the biggest thing I've had to get used to. No snoring or pillow fights or being forced to listen to Charles's songs about dying children—what was it called? Kindergardenmurder*? Something like that. Yeah, it's a lot quieter now…"
"Not to mention living in a house with solid walls. Getting to sleep in a real bed, with a mattress and box spring!"
"You aren't kidding," Pierce replied. "It's incredible; I no longer need to wear a coat and boots to take a leak. I can't depend on my hair freezing after a shower to add volume—now I gotta buy the right shampoo."
"Ha," she chuckled now, pulling the covers up over her pajama-clad body as her mind could not help but formulate an image of Hawkeye doing such… personal things. "I'm sure you could still step outside after a shower—I'll bet winters in Maine are something else."
"They sure are. It's still pretty comfortable here. The leaves are starting to turn. Nice getting to see maples and oaks again, trees I can actually recognize, unlike the mys-trees of Korea."
"Have you been participating in surgeries?"
"Not so much, no. The other day I removed an in-grown toenail, if that counts. I did a tonsillectomy a couple days after I first got back. Guess I'll slowly work my way in from both ends. I may never get around to diaphragmatic hernias."
"Ha, that's funny."
"Yeah, so, uh… right."
The conversation had officially devolved into awkwardness. What in the world was she supposed to ask him now? Perhaps she could reveal the changes in her life since she'd sent her letter.
"Ah," she murmured. "So I, uh—"
"So, I think I mentioned in that letter possibly coming down that way some time," he cut in. "Not sure if you'd be up for it. A nice little day trip to catch up and address all those Cs."
"Right, yes," she began. "Charles suggested your coming down tomorrow, if that works."
"Yeah, that's not one of the Cs I meant. Wait—are you saying Winchester suggested it? I thought I sent the letter to your place, not Snob Hill."
There it was. Now she'd be able to tell him the news.
"Well, Charles and I are—"
"I mean, that would be alright with me, I guess," Pierce interrupted, his voice bordering on self-consciousness. "I'll have to cancel my plans tomorrow—gimme a second—there goes my nap at noon, my siesta at three, and my forty winks at five. Or was that, fifty winks at four? Anyway, my schedule is now clear. Do you want me to come to your place, or—"
"You can meet us in the lobby of the Langham Hotel," Margaret cut in. "It's in the financial district of Boston. What time do you think you'd be arriving? Do you need an address?"
"Eh, that won't be necessary," Hawkeye replied, not following up on her inadvertent reference to us. "I did my residency in Boston and know my way around at least a little. I'd say, uh, noonish, maybe? Would that work?"
"That would be just fine. It'll be good to see you again—"
"Okay then," he interrupted. "See you tomorrow."
The click in her ear indicated that Margaret had missed her chance to tell Pierce of the nature of her relationship with Major Winchester. The letter she'd sent a couple of weeks ago hadn't gone into much detail about the Boston Brahmin, only mentioning that she now was back in the O.R. with him after getting a job in his department.
She thought of Hawkeye's tenuous mental state shortly before the armistice had been signed. Would he be terribly surprised to find that his recent kissing partner had moved on to his old bunkie? Perhaps she should call him back and let him know. And yet, if Charles behaved in any way like the lovestruck man from yesterday, then it would be patently obvious to Hawkeye what was going on the moment he stepped out of his vehicle.
"I didn't realize you were such a good swimmer, Charles," Margaret commented, watching him perform the backstroke across the pool, a smile of utter bliss on his face. Today had been full of firsts for her: it had been the first time she'd ever watched a color TV, the first time she'd swam inside a building, and the first time she'd actually enjoyed making love in a shower. And yet, Charles did not show any signs of stopping in his frenzied attempts to impress her.
Charles reached the deep end of the pool and righted his body so that his head and shoulders bobbed above the surface.
"Are you enjoying your swim, Margaret?" he asked her, flashing her a smile from across the otherwise empty pool. "This is the quintessence of relaxation, is it not?"
"I'm just amazed that no one else is taking advantage of this pool," she commented, gesturing at the splendor all around her. "Hell, I can't imagine there being another hotel in Boston with something like this."
"You are correct; the Langham is the only hotel in Boston with an indoor pool," Charles answered, slowly making his way over to her now. "And as for our current solitude, it is in fact no mystery; I ensured our privacy by means of a charitable donation to the party responsible for pool maintenance. The pool is, in fact, currently closed for cleaning."
"You are hemorrhaging money you don't even have yet, Charles," Margaret warned, making an anxious face. "Aren't you worried that there might be a chance you don't regain access to those—"
"Perish the thought," he cried, now frowning. "Do you not realize I have my own funds from Boston Mercy? I am not acting on credit right now."
"Why the hell not? Don't you have a Diners Card? Charge the hotel to that, and then you can pay it off when you—"
"I only possess a Diners Card to avoid carrying around large sums of cash. Now that the majority of my possessions are in fact here, there is no need to be so… conservative."
"Isn't that your very essence, Charles, being conservative? That's an actual element of your personality."
"Am I not allowed to evolve? I am being placed under selective pressure from my father and I need to adapt to survive. Ergo, liquid assets are now of keen importance to me."
"I guess that's why you chose a hotel with a pool—it also has liquid assets, huh?" she replied, chuckling.
He swam over to her where she was standing in the shallower area and promptly wrapped his arms around her, pulling him against his bare chest, as he shook with laughter at her joke. She shut her eyes then, feeling Charles kiss her on top of her head. How had she not been able to see Winchester's capacity for romance, for tenderness, for fun while they'd been in Korea? They could have had a two years' head start on all of this.
"Charles, you amaze me," she murmured, somehow feeling warmed against his wet body, his arms enveloping her, his laughter gradually fading into an appreciative smile. "It's like, you are very much you, but at the same time so… different. All in a good way, of course."
"The face of all the world is changed, I think," his voice rumbled lowly, stroking her hair as he began to recite one of Emily Barrett Browning's sonnets, "since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul move still, oh, still, beside me, as—"
She did not let him continue the verse and instead lifted her head up to kiss him as they stood holding each other in the pool.
"Are you ready yet?" Margaret said, having dressed up a bit for this occasion. She finished applying the last of her rouge as she heard a slight squeak in the mattress as Charles presumably pulled himself out of bed.
"Not hardly," Charles commented, rubbing his eyes. "When is he to arrive?"
"Noonish."
"That could be anywhere from 11:30 to 12:45, I would think," he replied. "What time is it now?"
"It's ten."
"Do you not wish to sleep—or not sleep—for a while longer?" he suggested, still bleary-eyed. "Surely Pierce will be on the late side and we'll have missed the opportunity for further rest and repose—"
"We spent the whole day yesterday reposing!" Margaret called out from the restroom. "Don't you want to get something to eat before he gets here?"
Charles could not help but think about dinner this evening and his need to create a legitimate-sounding excuse to give him the time to take Anne Coolidge to the Oakmont as per his father's wishes. Above all else, he was a man of his word and would follow through on his promise. But what would he say to Margaret, exactly? Should he fetch that massive wad of cash from the hotel safe and tell Margaret what was expected of him today with the hope that she'd be accepting of it? But then again, what if she wasn't? Pierce would be here soon and could act as the consummate opportunist, hugging her and wiping her tears away as she returned to his arms once again. He had missed his opportunity to tell her, with ample time to deal with the fallout. No, it was too late now.
This so-called date was meaningless to him, a means to an end. The fact that his eating partner was of the female persuasion should not matter, when he had no intention of doing anything but eating an overpriced meal and returning to the hotel, to Margaret. The fact that Margaret had not divulged their relationship status to Pierce was interesting in and of itself, and he attempted to equate the two in his mind, justifying his own lack of openness. And yet, it bothered him that she did not tell Pierce.
With Margaret returning back to the bathroom mirror, Charles gulped, a look of uncertainty on his face as he addressed her.
"As I recall," Charles began, more loudly now, "you were unable to inform Pierce of your change in relationship status, and by extension, my own. How do you propose we reveal the news to him?"
"What, are we engaged now? I don't think it's such a big deal, Charles," she shot back. "If you act anything like you did yesterday or even the day before, I'm sure he'll realize it right away."
Charles was hurt by her nonchalance. It had surprised him yesterday to learn that Margaret had not told Pierce the news, and now that his dinner date was fast-approaching, he regretted having not divulged his plans to her well ahead of time. He swallowed, feeling an unwelcome surge of worry in his throat.
"Might you remind me again why you were unable to tell him about—"
"He kept interrupting me, asking me questions, segueing into the next topic. I tried, Charles; believe me, I did."
"Right. Well, I suppose we'll see how this goes then, eh?"
*the song Pierce is referencing is Mahler's Kindertotenlieder (Songs on the Death of Children) from the "Friends and Enemies" episode
A/N: Preview for Chapter 13
"Margaret! Charles!" Hawkeye called out, striding toward them with arms outstretched. "Fancy meeting you two here, and… at the same exact time."
