The camp was in disarray. The wind was picking up and I Corps said a storm was on its way. Margaret was rushing to make sure everyone secured the camp as efficiently as possible. The others were rushing to get out of her way.
Lt. Bigelow did her best to avoid the major by sneaking into the Swamp.
"Hi there guys!" She greeted them.
"Ah! Bigelow, step on in. Beej, I'm ready to face the storm. Secure me to her," Hawkeye joked.
"I've only got a second. Major Houlihan's got me on a detail."
"She's a stickler for details," Hawkeye observed.
"Hawkeye, I'm planning a little get-together later. Hot chocolate and marshmallows. Would you like to come by?" Bigelow invited him.
"Oh, let me see. Who else is invited?"
"No one," Bigelow said suggestively.
"His favorite kind of crowd," BJ smirked.
"I'll be there with bells on. You'll love me in bells." It was Hawkeye's turn to smile suggestively.
"Shall we say 8pm?"
"7:30. I like a half hour to warm up."
Bigelow chuckled. "Gotta run."
She ducked out of the tent and walked straight into Major Houlihan.
"Bigelow!"
"Major. I was just about -"
"- about to go on report, Lieutenant! I put you on a detail to help secure this camp."
"Oh, Major."
"We're preparing for a crisis, Lieutenant. That is the worst time to 'Oh, Major' me. My nurses are gonna pull their weight through this. Is that understood?"
Hawkeye poked his head out of the tent. "Oh, Margaret, it's you. I thought it was the storm."
Margaret turned to face him. "How dare you distract one of my nurses! We're facing a crisis and you're just inviting her into your tent as though it won't blow you both away in a few hours. I'm so sick of you acting like my nursing staff is your own personal harem."
"Actually, Bigelow was inviting me to her tent."
"Great. Thanks for throwing me under the bus, Hawkeye," Bigelow groaned.
"That's it! Bigelow, you're on report. I'll go help secure the water tower myself. You can stay in post op for the rest of the night. The whole night," she emphasized.
Bigelow stomped off in a huff, disappointed about being on report, but a little relieved that she didn't have to scale the water tower. Bigelow didn't mind taking risks, in fact she was usually the first to volunteer for the tough assignments, but she had a desperate fear of heights. She headed back to post op and began helping the enlisted men prepare for the storm.
Margaret, also in a huff and eager to escape Hawkeye's disapproving gaze, stomped off in the opposite direction.
The wind was harsh, blowing things from one end of camp to the other. Margaret kicked things from her path in frustration. Hawkeye was constantly interfering and undermining her authority with her nurses. Although, he had stopped obnoxiously pursuing them lately. She was surprised to hear that Bigelow was the instigator. But that didn't change the fact that Hawkeye had enthusiastically agreed and with no shortage of innuendo. Ever since her divorce, and possibly before, Margaret had gotten pretty lonely. A part of her hoped that Hawkeye's recent distance from her nurses had something to do with their growing friendship. Maybe she was upset about more than just the "laziness" of one of her nurses.
Well, that was certainly a productive two minute walk, she thought. Margaret had been so distracted she nearly hit Klinger when she kicked a trash can across his path. She stumbled into the water tower.
"Major! Where's Bigelow? I thought you went to find her."
"I did. She's been reassigned. I'm here to help in her place."
"Yes, ma'am."
There were five people on duty helping with the project. Margaret began giving orders until she got annoyed they were "doing it wrong," so she climbed up on the water tower herself.
"Be careful, Major. The storm is getting rough."
"Is it? I had no idea. I just climbed up here for a bit of air," she said sarcastically.
The wind started to pick up and Margaret felt unsteady. Suddenly, a huge gust blew through the camp and the water tower crashed to the ground. Shouts for help rang out across the compound and people rushed to the scene. Margaret fell off the top and landed on her side. She groaned as she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. This is what I get for doing everything myself, she thought just before she blacked out.
Hawkeye was one of the first people to reach the accident and began pulling people from the scene. He stopped when he saw Margaret's face. She had passed out with her arm in a very awkward position. He bent over and carefully moved her out of the way.
It's a good thing she passed out, he thought. That's a pretty bad break and she must be in incredible pain.
The rest of the injured were on their way to pre-op, so he decided to carry her himself. Margaret moaned a little when he lifted her, but then softly rested her head on his shoulder. She felt so comfortable in his arms. If she weren't unconscious and injured, he might've enjoyed carrying her. At that moment though, his head was filled with worry.
He finally reached pre-op and placed her on a stretcher. She groaned in response as she regained consciousness.
Nurse Bigelow rushed over.
"Major!"
She turned to Hawkeye. "What happened? I mean, I know what happened, but how bad is it? Oh Major, I'm so sorry."
"There'll be time for apologies later," Hawkeye scolded. "Margaret, we have to move you and get you into the OR. It sounds like it's your spleen and we definitely need to look at your shoulder."
A few minutes later, Margaret was in OR, Hawkeye and Bigelow bent over her in quiet concentration. The surgery was routine, but Hawkeye found himself surprised by his nerves.
"Are you ok, doctor? You're sweating an awful lot," Bigelow observed.
"I'm fine, just a little hot. Could someone please turn down the weather in this country? Don't they know there's a war on?" Hawkeye joked.
If he were to be honest with himself though, he'd admit that it wasn't just the heat that made him uncomfortable. He was worried because it was Margaret lying on the table in front of him. Of course, they had been in this situation before, but they hadn't yet slept together. It's one thing to hold a person in your arms; it's quite another to hold their life in your hands.
Hawkeye knew it wasn't so drastic as all that, but he was still concerned about his performance. He was so afraid of hurting her, and in a small way he felt like the accident was his fault. If he had tried to calm her down before she stomped off, then maybe she wouldn't have been so careless as to climb on something so unsteady.
It only took him a few minutes to fix up her shoulder and then he turned his attention to her spleen. He smiled a bit when he saw the scar from her appendix surgery. It was a good thing he was wearing a mask because the others might think he was leering. Hawkeye Pierce had leered at his fair share of women, but never one on his operating table.
Margaret awoke with a groan. Everything was stiff and she couldn't move her arm. The lights in post op were too bright and everyone was making too much noise. Needless to say, Margaret was not happy.
Hawkeye approached her with caution. Margaret in pain was almost as bad as Margaret before coffee. But Hawkeye had come prepared.
"Good morning," he greeted her. "I thought you might need this." He handed her a mug of coffee. She sat up slowly and took it from his hands.
Well, at least it's warm, she thought as she swallowed the stuff the Army called coffee.
"Hawkeye!" Lt. Bigelow ran over. "You know as well as I do that patients should have only water for at least a day after surgery." She took the mug from Margaret's grasp.
"I'm sorry, Major, but I know you'd do the same if you were in my place."
"Of course," Margaret said reluctantly.
Hawkeye shrugged. "Well, I tried."
"It was a nice gesture, but very foolish."
"Margaret, since when have I ever not been foolish?"
A million occasions ran through her mind, not the least of which involved his arms wrapped tightly around her. But she kept those thoughts to herself and just smirked in reply.
"Let's get down to business, then." Hawkeye took a look at her chart. "How'd you sleep?"
"I'm not sure being unconscious from the anesthesia counts as sleep, but it was okay," Margaret replied.
"Your vitals look good," he observed. "I need to take a look at your shoulder."
He stepped closer to the bed and lifted her bandage gingerly. "It looks pretty good, if I do say so myself."
"You always do say so yourself," she teased.
"Touché," he admitted. "Okay, I'm going to lift your shirt just a bit so I can take a look at your stitches, if you don't mind."
Margaret smiled. "You lifted my shirt much more than a bit last time and I didn't mind," she said quietly.
Hawkeye looked at her in surprise. We haven't yet discussed what happened a few months ago and now she's joking about it?
Margaret was disappointed when he didn't take the bait and just turned his attention to her stomach. She did notice, however, that his touch was surprisingly gentle and a bit more familiar than a doctor's should be. Hawkeye was unusually quiet and professional for the next few minutes. He marveled at the soft, pale skin of her stomach, smooth except for her surgical scars. In that moment, he hated how harsh they looked. He had taken special care when stitching her up, perhaps a few minutes longer than he should have. The last thing he wanted to do was make Margaret feel like just another one of his infamous "meatball" surgery patients.
Margaret looked down at her stomach. "That doesn't look too bad. Thanks for sewing me up so neatly."
"I could've done better if I had more time. I can't imagine the number of ugly scars I've handed out recently. I just wanted to make sure you weren't one of them."
"Hawkeye, it looks fine. And hey, I'll just think of you every time I see them," she joked a little suggestively.
"You can pull my shirt down now, please," she reminded him.
Hawkeye looked up, distracted.
What the heck is going on with him? She thought. He's so serious right now. Margaret was getting a bit worried. Maybe he had taken her accident more roughly than she expected.
"Excuse me, doctor."
Bigelow called him over to another patient and Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired and confused and just wanted to go back to bed. The coffee had been unhelpful and her stomach was practically begging her for food. She motioned to one of the nurses who was going around with breakfast trays and finally settled into a mediocre meal. She spent most of the next few minutes watching Hawkeye as he moved around the room, expertly cheering up the young men as he went.
"Major!"
Margaret looked up to see Klinger in another one of his ridiculous get-ups.
"I brought you a few things. I thought you might get a little antsy." He handed her a compact and some lipstick.
"I haven't used it," he promised before she could say anything.
"Thank you, Klinger. This was very considerate of you."
"Oh, it wasn't me, ma'am. Lt. Bigelow thought you'd appreciate the gesture, but was a little hesitant to talk to you since you did take her place at the water tower. She seemed pretty shook up in surgery too."
Margaret was surprised. She'd had a horrible thought that maybe Bigelow had been happy to see her hurt. She regretted being so harsh to her before, but she knew she made the right choice in disciplining her.
A few minutes and one refreshing face of makeup later, Nurse Bigelow walked over to check on her again.
"Thanks for the supplies," Margaret said with a nod and smile toward the make up.
"Well, I've never seen you without it, and I figured you'd feel more comfortable this way."
"I do," Margaret smiled.
A few other nurses came by to check on her throughout the day. She was surprised at their concern and grateful for their support. She noticed Hawkeye stayed away though.
I must've thrown him off guard this morning, she thought. Or maybe he's just shaken up about having to take care of so many people in the camp. She knew how hard it was for him to operate on people he cared about.
She didn't see Hawkeye until later that night. They had an awkward repeat of that morning's check up, but this time Margaret avoided any suggestive comments.
"What's the verdict?" She asked.
"Two days, tops."
"Two days?!" Margaret exclaimed. "Do you know how far I'll fall behind in two days? And what if we get more wounded? I'll just be in the way, taking up a bed someone else will need."
"Shh, relax," Hawkeye tried to calm her down. "I just meant two days until you should get back to work. We can move you to your tent tomorrow where you'll be more comfortable."
Margaret breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay," she replied. "If that's the best you can do."
"That's the best I can do."
"Well, you better come visit me if I'm stuck in that tent by myself for two days."
"As you wish," Hawkeye smirked. "Get some rest." He started to walk away.
"That's it? Get some rest? That's all I've been getting for the past 12 hours and apparently all I'll be getting for the next 48!"
Half of post op looked over to see what had caused such a commotion.
"Nothing to see here, folks. Just an angry nurse tired of being a patient," Hawkeye explained.
Margaret glared at him as he walked away.
A few hours and one painful trek across the compound later, Margaret settled into her tent. She wasn't as lonely as she expected because people began to drift in and out for the next few days, keeping her occupied. Some of the nurses even stopped in for advice about things that happened in surgery.
Lt. Bigelow was around more than anyone else and Margaret was surprised to discover how much they had in common. They got to know one another pretty well and almost became friends.
One day Margaret gave in to her curiosity and asked about Hawkeye.
"What's he like?" She asked abruptly.
"What's who like?"
"Hawkeye."
"Major, I'm sure you know him better than I do."
"Maybe, but you know him differently. I'm not talking about his personality," she clarified.
"I'm not sure we should talk about this. You are my superior officer."
Margaret gave her a disapproving look.
"Okay, okay, I'll bite," Bigelow gave in. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of Major Houlihan's disapproving looks.
"I haven't gone out with him as much as some of the girls, but I think I know him pretty well. He's fun and casual. He never takes anything seriously, which can be a good or bad thing depending on the girl's expectation. He's good at accidentally breaking hearts.
"Honestly, I think we're evenly matched in terms of personality. I wouldn't admit this to very many people, but our dates haven't gone too far past flirting and having a good time. He's good at helping you forget about the war for a while. He's pretty cute too - but I'm sure you've already figured that out," Bigelow said with a laugh.
"I have," Margaret admitted.
"Well, I spilled my beans. It's your turn now."
"It's complicated," Margaret answered.
"Ooh, sounds like there's a story here."
"It's nothing," Margaret insisted, embarrassed she had even asked about Hawkeye in the first place.
"C'mon, Major. It can't be both nothing and complicated at the same time. You look like you're in some serious need of some girl talk."
"I'm not very good at girl talk."
"It's easier and more fun than you might think. We don't even have to talk about Hawkeye right away. I'll go first."
"Okay," Margaret agreed reluctantly.
"Did you really sleep your way up the chain of command to become a major?"
Margaret looked at her, aghast. "That seems a little extreme for girl talk, Lieutenant."
"Okay, let me rephrase that. What's it like sleeping with a general?"
"So girl talk is all about sex, is it?"
"Today it is," Bigelow smirked.
"Mostly underwhelming," Margaret answered honestly. "But the perks were worth it. What's the highest ranking officer you've slept with?"
"Captain. This is my first time in the army, so I haven't had the chance to venture out of this camp."
"Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this," Margaret said. They chatted for a few more minutes.
"So are you ready to go back to the person of interest that started this whole conversation?"
Margaret feigned ignorance. "Who?"
"Nope, you're not getting out of this conversation that easily. What's going on with you two? You've been too civil with each other lately."
"Other people have noticed?" Margaret groaned.
"Yep. Oh my God, have y'all slept together?"
"Yeah."
"Finally."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Margaret demanded.
"I don't know. I guess once Frank left, we all noticed you guys spending more time together. Granted, it was mostly fighting, but you always ended up at the same table in surgery or the same bench in the mess tent. Also, it's obvious how much Hawkeye resents Donald."
A knock at the door interrupted their conversation.
"Speak of the devil," Bigelow smirked as she opened the door.
Hawkeye poked his head into the tent. Margaret gave him a distracted hello as she processed what Bigelow had just told her. Bigelow looked at her watch and gave a flimsy excuse as she left the tent.
"How are you feeling?"
"I'm ok, but it's annoying to be stuck in here."
"Well, let me just take another look, and maybe you can get out of here."
"Oh, so this is just a professional visit?" Margaret asked, a little disappointed.
"That's my excuse," Hawkeye said, "but I have been neglecting you a bit, haven't I?"
"Just a bit," Margaret answered.
"You know what they say - out of sight, out of mind."
Margaret rolled her eyes. He really was getting ridiculous with all this teasing. She wasn't sure if it was casual, or if he might be hiding something more. She secretly hoped it was the latter.
"I'm glad you finally made it, doctor. This tent was getting pretty crowded."
"Yeah, I heard you're getting pretty chummy with your nurses. What happened to Head Nurse Houlihan and when did she get so friendly?"
"I don't know. I guess in a war zone you take what you can get," she smirked.
"Oh that explains Donald then, doesn't it?"
"Are you accusing me of settling, doctor?"
"You said it first."
"I meant friends, not husbands."
"Of course Margaret, you'd never settle for anyone, especially not a married major with a ferret face," he said sarcastically.
"Okay, that's it. Get out of my tent."
He was pissing her off so often lately, this was just another typical conversation. In fact, this kind of interaction had become more frequent in the days since the incident. She thought that the surgery might've changed him, but no, he was still an asshole.
I'm glad I didn't end up spilling my guts to Bigelow, she thought. Especially since it looks like nothing will come of our "precious moment" together.
"Hey, I can't leave now," Hawkeye insisted. "I haven't examined your progress yet."
Margaret rolled her eyes again and, in a moment of exasperation, tore off her t-shirt.
"There. Now you can see everything. I'm fine, okay? So get the hell out of my tent!"
Hawkeye stood there as though shell-shocked. "That was…unexpected," he finally managed to say.
Margaret felt her confidence slipping away as he continued to stare at her.
"Well? How does it look?" she asked, referring to her scar.
"Incredible," he answered, clearly not referring to her scar.
"Alright, that's enough. I've demanded twice that you leave this tent. I don't care how incredible you think my tits are, it's time for you to leave."
Hawkeye looked away, appropriately chastened. "Your scar looks like it's healing properly and as long as you don't work too hard, I think you can go back to work as soon as you feel comfortable," he said quickly as he turned to go.
"Thanks for the professional opinion," Margaret answered. "And if you ever look at me like that again, I will literally kick you out of this tent."
Margaret breathed a sigh of relief as Hawkeye walked out the door.
Finally, she thought. I'm free.
The tent really had started to feel like a prison. She headed toward the the door, eager to see the sunlight.
That sounds so dramatic. Although, the last few minutes have been quite dramatic, she reflected.
Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. Just as she was about to invite them in, she realized she was still shirtless.
"Hey, it's Bigelow. I just saw Hawkeye leave. Did you kick him out? He looked scared."
"He should be! That S.O.B. just accused me of settling and decided to reminded me about Frank. Then when he finally got around to be a doctor, he had the gall to ogle me like I was just another nurse."
"Be careful, Major. Someone might think you have feelings for that S.O.B."
"Oh drop it. I don't want to hear or think about him for the next five hours."
"Why five?"
"That just seems like the amount of time I'll need to catch up on my work before I have to run into him again."
"He cleared you to go back to work? That's great!"
"Yeah, but not before he decided to stare at my chest for an obscene amount of time."
"Oh c'mon, Major, he'd never be that rude on an official visit."
"Well, he was and if you don't mind getting out of the way, I'm going back to work."
"Major, you're forgetting something."
Margaret looked down in surprise as she realised she still hadn't put on a shirt. She had just had an entire conversation with a co-worker shirtless? A co-worker who hadn't ogled me once, she thought with relief.
"Excuse me," she said awkwardly.
"I'm sorry I didn't say anything a few minutes ago, but you were on such a roll with your outburst that I didn't want to ruin the moment."
They both laughed.
"I'll meet you in post op in a few minutes. I just need some time to calm down."
"Yes, ma'am. It's good to have you back."
"I'm looking forward to it as well, Lieutenant."
Margaret smiled as Bigelow left. She gathered what she needed and pushed open the door of her tent. She didn't know why she expected fresh air, but she was still disappointed by the variety of smells in the courtyard, none of which could be considered fresh. She walked to post op and was greeted by a teasing round of applause. She surveyed the room, getting back into Head Nurse mode. She began by scolding Kellye about the bedsheets and ended by bandaging half the boys in post op a few hours later.
Even though it had only been a few days, Margaret had been itching to come back. Hearing about the war wasn't quite the same as being in it. Margaret knew it was horrible to think about, but she really did love her job. The past week had shown her that. She was touched when the nurse came to her for expertise and proud when she learned how much she could help them. She was grateful there hadn't been many wounded while she was on bedrest.
God, bedrest makes it sound like I was pregnant or something. Thank goodness that's not happening anytime soon, she thought.
Margaret headed to the mess tent to get some food. It was good to sit at a table with other people. No matter how annoying the company, she thought as she glared at Hawkeye from across the table.
"Do you have something to say to me, Major? You've got an intense look on your face right now," Hawkeye asked.
Margaret decided he deserved the silent treatment so she turned to Father Mulcahy and asked him what time tonight's movie would be. He looked surprised.
"19:00 as usual, Major," he answered. Margaret rarely ignored direct questions, especially from Hawkeye, so this was unexpected.
Margaret knew it would be, so she just talked to the other people at the table until Hawkeye got up and left. Serves him right, she thought. One of us nurses needs to put her foot down when it comes to his behavior. If it has to be me, I'm going to do it properly.
Margaret decided to go to the movie later that evening. The tent was already crowded when she got there and the only open seat near the front was next to Hawkeye.
Just my luck, she thought.
He beckoned her over with a pat on the seat, but she rolled her eyes and walked right past him. She ended up stuck next to an enlisted man whose name she didn't know.
I really need to branch out more, she thought as she noticed the look of surprised on the young corporal's face.
"Major."
"Corporal," she acknowledged.
Margaret spent the next hour and a half sitting in awkward silence next to the young man. She stayed in her seat even after the end credits rolled. The corporal made a feeble excuse as he stepped over her and left the tent.
A minute or two later, BJ made his way over and sat down beside her.
"You know, this silent treatment is really getting to him."
"It's only been seven hours."
"He's not used to being ignored, especially by the prettiest woman in camp - his words, not mine."
Margaret rolled her eyes. "He definitely didn't say that."
"You're right. He said something rude that I'd never repeat in front of a lady."
"He told you what happened?"
"Yep. And I'm firmly 'team Margaret' on this one."
"Thanks," Margaret cracked a smile. "It all escalated so quickly. He's never been that rude to me before - annoying, flirtatious, angry, sure - but never so inappropriate and disrespectful."
"I know. I gave him an hour lecture on how not to harass a superior officer."
Margaret laughed. "Half his time is spent harassing superior officers. Do you think your talk worked?"
"There's only one way to find out. C'mon Margaret, give him another chance."
Margaret sighed. "Fine. But I do so under protest."
"Works for me. He's been moping all day. It's very boring - although Charles is enjoying the silence."
"I'm sure he is. Alright I'll think about it."
"Thanks. I'm sure you won't regret it."
"I better not."
Margaret smiled as BJ walked away. Maybe this afternoon really was a mistake. After all, she had torn her shirt off.
Oh dear god, did I really? Margaret realized with embarrassment. She really should apologize.
But only if he does so first, she told herself.
She noticed she was alone in the tent except for Radar, who was putting away the projection equipment.
Margaret got up and decided to find Hawkeye. She finally found him in the officer's club nursing a scotch and looking unusually somber.
"Hey." She sat down beside him.
"Margaret?" He looked up in surprise. An awkward silence filled the air.
"I'm sorry about this afternoon," he said, breaking the silence.
"Thanks," she replied. "What's with the scotch? That seems a bit extreme if you're just annoyed that I ignored you earlier."
"I'm not. To be honest, I hardly noticed."
"But BJ said you've been sulking all day?"
"I have. Just not about you."
This is getting interesting, Margaret thought as she moved her stool closer to his.
"Then why did you lie about it to BJ?"
"Do you remember the time my friend Tommy Gillis showed up here? He was working on a book called 'You Never Hear the Bullet.'"'
"Yeah. He's your first friend that died here at the 4077th, wasn't he?"
"Yeah. The last thing he told me that was he heard the bullet."
"Hawkeye, this happened over two years ago. Why are you bringing it up now?"
"You were on my table too, Margaret. Did you know my hands were shaking and my forehead was dripping with sweat?"
"It's always over a hundred degrees in there. Everyone sweats."
"This was different. Did you hear it? Before you fell?"
"Hawkeye, I wasn't shot."
"No, I guess not. But what if you end up on my table again? What if BJ does? Or God forbid, what if Radar does?"
"We won't." She tried to reassure him. "Look at me. I'm fine. You said so yourself."
"Yeah. But I'm not fine. I don't know how to tell people that. I'm head surgeon. I have to be fine."
Margaret fell silent. She reached over and gently removed the glass from his grasp. She softly touched his hand.
"I'm here. I'm real. I'm alive. And I'm fine. But if you're not, then I guess I'll be fine for the both of us."
He finally smiled. "Thanks."
"I'm sorry for giving you the silent treatment."
"It's ok. It didn't last very long anyways."
"No, I guess it didn't," Margaret realized with a smile.
He's not so bad, Margaret mused as they quietly talked the rest of the evening away.