Part 2
It was late evening when Hawkeye was sitting in Post-Op. The light was dim, creating a shadowy look in the room. A nurse was milling around, checking on patients.
Hawkeye sat beside Trapper, as he had done for several hours. Henry had let him, knowing that it would be difficult to move him. Hawkeye had become concerned because Trapper seemed to be showing signs of a fever.
He decided to pass the time by writing a letter to his father. He found a pen and some paper, and began.
"Dear Dad," he wrote.
"How are you? And how is America? I'm not so bad, and Korea is still at war. I guess you knew that from reading the papers.
"Today has not been one of your usual days. This morning, I had had it up to here with Frank Burns. Trapper had been gone four days and was due back this afternoon. That's when I got a phone call…"
Hawkeye went on to tell the story of the afternoon up to that point. He tried to stay away to finish his letter, but exhaustion got the better of him and he fell asleep in his chair.
After some time, Major Houlihan came to relieve the nurse of her duties. Before she left, the nurse pointed out the sleeping Hawkeye. Margaret decided that he should be moved to a spare bed. Carefully, but with difficulty, the two nurses moved him without waking him up.
The tired nurse left, leaving Margaret with the patients. She carried out her duties before settling in the chair that Hawkeye had been sitting in sometime ago.
For a moment, she just stared at Trapper. She watched his gentle breathing as his chest rose and fell. It was calming, almost relaxing. For some seconds, it continued, but then seemed to stop, and Margaret panicked. She stood up, preparing to carry out CPR, but was relieved to see that it started again. Guess there are some things that doctors and nurses can't explain, she thought to herself.
Looking at the relaxing breathing again, something snapped inside Margaret. Throughout her life, she had always been active, especially in her military life, and especially in Korea. Relaxing was a foreign concept to her. Thoughts and memories overcame her, and all she could do was break down and cry.
As she sobbed, she wondered why she was crying. Perhaps it was seeing Trapper stop breathing for a moment, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was seeing the bond between him and Hawkeye that day. Perhaps it was a lot of things rolled into one.
Her sobs awoke Hawkeye, who wondered where he was. He looked over to Trapper's bed, but could not make out the shadowy figure in the dim light. He neared the person, and was taken aback to see that it was Margaret.
Hawkeye was put out, and unsure of what to do. Then, he decided that she was in need of comforting, so he crouched down and hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed. "He'll be fine." He could feel her trembling in his arms.
Margaret sniffed. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry about what?"
"I shouldn't be crying."
"Why not? Why can't you cry if you feel like it?"
"I'm meant to be able to handle stuff like this. I was brought up like it."
"We all handle things in our different ways."
"How are you handling it?" Margaret asked.
"I don't think there's anything to handle. I know he's going to get better," Hawkeye told her.
"Oh, great. So now you think I've gone mad, I suppose."
"No. I just think that you have had a lot of pressure build up inside you, and you just reached breaking point. You're one of the sanest people I know, even if you do hang out with Frank frequently."
Margaret frowned, and Hawkeye realised that he had hit a nerve, but chose not to say anything at that moment. Instead, he hugged her tighter.
Margaret whispered, "thank you." She had found a bit of friendship in Hawkeye that night, and she was determined to keep what she had found.
Over the next day, people noticed a change in Major Houlihan. During a short session of surgery, she complimented the staff on their work, and never complained when the new nurse dropped a tray of instruments.
She found Hawkeye sitting back beside Trapper when she finished surgery. She walked over to him.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Slight fever. Hasn't woken up yet," he replied, frowning slightly.
"Don't worry. Everyone reacts differently to surgery."
Hawkeye nodded. "You've changed," he stated simply.
"Changed? How? And when?"
"You got nicer," he said, sounding like a child.
"I got nicer?"
"Yeah. Over the past day, you haven't yelled at anyone, you haven't threatened to go over Henry's head, you've even started to talk to me civilly." He put his hand to Margaret's forehead. "You're probably coming down with something."
Margaret shook her head. "It took me this long to realise that I have no friend, no proper friends, in this war."
"You've got Frank. Actually, Frank's more like a pet than a friend."
"I'm more like Frank's entertainment," Margaret sighed. "I was raised the Army way. I've been kidding myself that this was the best way for me. It's not."
"So how does that make you nicer?"
"I'm less strict," Margaret enlightened him.
"Oh, I see. It took you this long to figure that out? I guess the Army must have gotten to your head and gone right through it." He smiled an accepting smile. "Welcome to our world." He held out his hand and Margaret shook it, grinning also.
"Thank you," she replied genuinely.
Hawkeye was slightly surprised. "You really, actually mean it? Less complaining? Less starchy-strict Army style? More kindness? More laidback attitude?"
"Sure," she replied in a laidback voice. She became serious for a moment. "How do you think Frank will react?"
Hawkeye pondered this. "I'm not sure. You want me to tell him?"
"I don't think so. I don't think it's a case of telling him, but more a case of him finding out for himself."
The next morning, Hawkeye was doing his share of Post-Op duty when he saw a sight that brought a smile to his face. He walked over to Trapper's bed and sat on the edge of it.
"Took you long enough," he grinned.
Trapper tried to open his eyes fully. "Am I still in Korea?"
Hawkeye shook his head. "Nah. The war decided to move to Rio de Janeiro."
Trapper sighed. "I'm still in Korea."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I got hurt somewhere, someplace."
"At least you still remember how to be a doctor," Hawkeye joked.
"That's probably the only thing I remember. What happened?"
"You don't remember? Don't you remember anything?"
"I know who I am, so it's not long-term amnesia. I'm Trapper John McIntyre."
"Know who I am?"
"Yeah, I know who you are, Hawk. I just don't remember anything about I ended up here."
"You were drafted," Hawkeye enlightened him.
"I meant in this hospital bed, you idiot," Trapper groaned.
"Oh, right." Hawkeye smirked at his mistake. "Guess you want me to tell you what happened."
"Would be nice."
"How much do you remember?"
"I left Tokyo. From then on, nothing."
"Okay, it's pretty simple after that. Basically, you got shot by a sniper, crashed your jeep, radioed Radar for help, we found you and operated on you back here. You got shot in the side, a broken leg, and a concussion."
"When was that?"
"About two days ago," Hawkeye informed him whilst looking at his chart. He added, "you probably could have done with the sleep after your stay in Tokyo. How was your stay in the big city?"
Whilst Trapper and Hawkeye filled each other what had gone on since Trapper left for Tokyo, a discussion of more negative terms was taking place in Major Houlihan's tent. The conversation between her and Frank Burns was not all that pleasant.
"Margaret, sweetie, I don't understand. Why?"
"Why what, Frank?" Margaret asked in an irritated voice.
"Why you talked to Pierce about it instead of me! You can tell me anything you want, dearest."
"No Frank, I can't."
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"Frank, sometimes people need to talk to somebody different about certain things in order to," Margaret grasped for the right words, the ones that weren't necessarily true but would please Frank, "to get a neutral view of a situation."
"Oh," Frank thought this through before snapping, "you were talking about me!"
"No, we weren't talking about you," Margaret contradicted calmly.
"Oh, that's what they all say. That's what they always say. I saw you and Pierce that night. I saw more than you know I saw. He put his arms around you, and what's more, you let him."
Margaret was surprised that Frank had seen this but had kept quiet about it for so long. She sighed.
"I know that sigh. That sigh of yours means I'm right. I don't hear it all that often but I know it when I hear it."
Margaret sighed again. "Yes, you're right. What you say is true. But you don't know why." Frank remained quiet as she continued. "He was being a good friend in me, someone I could confide in."
"But you can confide in me, precious," Frank whined as he put his arms around her.
"Not then, Frank." She removed his arms from around her shoulders and turned to face him. "I went to see Captain McIntyre… Trapper, to see how he was. He's a friend and I care for him. But whilst I was there, the pressure of everything just cracked me, and Hawkeye was there to comfort me. Frank, you've reacted badly to people cracking because of the war. How do you think that I could have come to you, knowing that?"
"But, that's different…"
"How? We're all in the same war. Hawkeye was nice to me…"
"I'll bet he was," Frank snorted.
"He was a good friend," Margaret snapped. "He seemed to understand. He put all our differences aside and saw me as someone in need of a friend. Not only was he a good friend, but he was a good human being, something I don't see in you too often, Frank," she finished.
Frank wasn't sure whether to be hurt or angry. He just settled for exclaiming, "Margaret!" As this gained nothing, he tried a new approach. "They've poisoned your mind! They're turned you against me!"
Margaret sighed at the pitiful, pathetic picture before her. "No, Frank. I've opened my eyes. You didn't think you'd ever lose me, did you? Well, at least not until the war was over, and you'd have your wife and family to go back to. I got news for you. I've opened my eyes, and I don't like what I'm seeing."
Frank sniffed. "I've always admired you, Margaret. We always saw eye to eye. Not anymore. Now that you've teamed up with Pierce and McIntyre, nothing will be the same. This is the finish." With that, Frank stormed off into the night. Margaret felt a strange sensation wash over her, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
It was late evening when Hawkeye was sitting in Post-Op. The light was dim, creating a shadowy look in the room. A nurse was milling around, checking on patients.
Hawkeye sat beside Trapper, as he had done for several hours. Henry had let him, knowing that it would be difficult to move him. Hawkeye had become concerned because Trapper seemed to be showing signs of a fever.
He decided to pass the time by writing a letter to his father. He found a pen and some paper, and began.
"Dear Dad," he wrote.
"How are you? And how is America? I'm not so bad, and Korea is still at war. I guess you knew that from reading the papers.
"Today has not been one of your usual days. This morning, I had had it up to here with Frank Burns. Trapper had been gone four days and was due back this afternoon. That's when I got a phone call…"
Hawkeye went on to tell the story of the afternoon up to that point. He tried to stay away to finish his letter, but exhaustion got the better of him and he fell asleep in his chair.
After some time, Major Houlihan came to relieve the nurse of her duties. Before she left, the nurse pointed out the sleeping Hawkeye. Margaret decided that he should be moved to a spare bed. Carefully, but with difficulty, the two nurses moved him without waking him up.
The tired nurse left, leaving Margaret with the patients. She carried out her duties before settling in the chair that Hawkeye had been sitting in sometime ago.
For a moment, she just stared at Trapper. She watched his gentle breathing as his chest rose and fell. It was calming, almost relaxing. For some seconds, it continued, but then seemed to stop, and Margaret panicked. She stood up, preparing to carry out CPR, but was relieved to see that it started again. Guess there are some things that doctors and nurses can't explain, she thought to herself.
Looking at the relaxing breathing again, something snapped inside Margaret. Throughout her life, she had always been active, especially in her military life, and especially in Korea. Relaxing was a foreign concept to her. Thoughts and memories overcame her, and all she could do was break down and cry.
As she sobbed, she wondered why she was crying. Perhaps it was seeing Trapper stop breathing for a moment, she thought to herself. Perhaps it was seeing the bond between him and Hawkeye that day. Perhaps it was a lot of things rolled into one.
Her sobs awoke Hawkeye, who wondered where he was. He looked over to Trapper's bed, but could not make out the shadowy figure in the dim light. He neared the person, and was taken aback to see that it was Margaret.
Hawkeye was put out, and unsure of what to do. Then, he decided that she was in need of comforting, so he crouched down and hugged her.
"It's okay," he soothed. "He'll be fine." He could feel her trembling in his arms.
Margaret sniffed. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry about what?"
"I shouldn't be crying."
"Why not? Why can't you cry if you feel like it?"
"I'm meant to be able to handle stuff like this. I was brought up like it."
"We all handle things in our different ways."
"How are you handling it?" Margaret asked.
"I don't think there's anything to handle. I know he's going to get better," Hawkeye told her.
"Oh, great. So now you think I've gone mad, I suppose."
"No. I just think that you have had a lot of pressure build up inside you, and you just reached breaking point. You're one of the sanest people I know, even if you do hang out with Frank frequently."
Margaret frowned, and Hawkeye realised that he had hit a nerve, but chose not to say anything at that moment. Instead, he hugged her tighter.
Margaret whispered, "thank you." She had found a bit of friendship in Hawkeye that night, and she was determined to keep what she had found.
Over the next day, people noticed a change in Major Houlihan. During a short session of surgery, she complimented the staff on their work, and never complained when the new nurse dropped a tray of instruments.
She found Hawkeye sitting back beside Trapper when she finished surgery. She walked over to him.
"How is he?" she asked.
"Slight fever. Hasn't woken up yet," he replied, frowning slightly.
"Don't worry. Everyone reacts differently to surgery."
Hawkeye nodded. "You've changed," he stated simply.
"Changed? How? And when?"
"You got nicer," he said, sounding like a child.
"I got nicer?"
"Yeah. Over the past day, you haven't yelled at anyone, you haven't threatened to go over Henry's head, you've even started to talk to me civilly." He put his hand to Margaret's forehead. "You're probably coming down with something."
Margaret shook her head. "It took me this long to realise that I have no friend, no proper friends, in this war."
"You've got Frank. Actually, Frank's more like a pet than a friend."
"I'm more like Frank's entertainment," Margaret sighed. "I was raised the Army way. I've been kidding myself that this was the best way for me. It's not."
"So how does that make you nicer?"
"I'm less strict," Margaret enlightened him.
"Oh, I see. It took you this long to figure that out? I guess the Army must have gotten to your head and gone right through it." He smiled an accepting smile. "Welcome to our world." He held out his hand and Margaret shook it, grinning also.
"Thank you," she replied genuinely.
Hawkeye was slightly surprised. "You really, actually mean it? Less complaining? Less starchy-strict Army style? More kindness? More laidback attitude?"
"Sure," she replied in a laidback voice. She became serious for a moment. "How do you think Frank will react?"
Hawkeye pondered this. "I'm not sure. You want me to tell him?"
"I don't think so. I don't think it's a case of telling him, but more a case of him finding out for himself."
The next morning, Hawkeye was doing his share of Post-Op duty when he saw a sight that brought a smile to his face. He walked over to Trapper's bed and sat on the edge of it.
"Took you long enough," he grinned.
Trapper tried to open his eyes fully. "Am I still in Korea?"
Hawkeye shook his head. "Nah. The war decided to move to Rio de Janeiro."
Trapper sighed. "I'm still in Korea."
"How do you feel?"
"Like I got hurt somewhere, someplace."
"At least you still remember how to be a doctor," Hawkeye joked.
"That's probably the only thing I remember. What happened?"
"You don't remember? Don't you remember anything?"
"I know who I am, so it's not long-term amnesia. I'm Trapper John McIntyre."
"Know who I am?"
"Yeah, I know who you are, Hawk. I just don't remember anything about I ended up here."
"You were drafted," Hawkeye enlightened him.
"I meant in this hospital bed, you idiot," Trapper groaned.
"Oh, right." Hawkeye smirked at his mistake. "Guess you want me to tell you what happened."
"Would be nice."
"How much do you remember?"
"I left Tokyo. From then on, nothing."
"Okay, it's pretty simple after that. Basically, you got shot by a sniper, crashed your jeep, radioed Radar for help, we found you and operated on you back here. You got shot in the side, a broken leg, and a concussion."
"When was that?"
"About two days ago," Hawkeye informed him whilst looking at his chart. He added, "you probably could have done with the sleep after your stay in Tokyo. How was your stay in the big city?"
Whilst Trapper and Hawkeye filled each other what had gone on since Trapper left for Tokyo, a discussion of more negative terms was taking place in Major Houlihan's tent. The conversation between her and Frank Burns was not all that pleasant.
"Margaret, sweetie, I don't understand. Why?"
"Why what, Frank?" Margaret asked in an irritated voice.
"Why you talked to Pierce about it instead of me! You can tell me anything you want, dearest."
"No Frank, I can't."
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"Frank, sometimes people need to talk to somebody different about certain things in order to," Margaret grasped for the right words, the ones that weren't necessarily true but would please Frank, "to get a neutral view of a situation."
"Oh," Frank thought this through before snapping, "you were talking about me!"
"No, we weren't talking about you," Margaret contradicted calmly.
"Oh, that's what they all say. That's what they always say. I saw you and Pierce that night. I saw more than you know I saw. He put his arms around you, and what's more, you let him."
Margaret was surprised that Frank had seen this but had kept quiet about it for so long. She sighed.
"I know that sigh. That sigh of yours means I'm right. I don't hear it all that often but I know it when I hear it."
Margaret sighed again. "Yes, you're right. What you say is true. But you don't know why." Frank remained quiet as she continued. "He was being a good friend in me, someone I could confide in."
"But you can confide in me, precious," Frank whined as he put his arms around her.
"Not then, Frank." She removed his arms from around her shoulders and turned to face him. "I went to see Captain McIntyre… Trapper, to see how he was. He's a friend and I care for him. But whilst I was there, the pressure of everything just cracked me, and Hawkeye was there to comfort me. Frank, you've reacted badly to people cracking because of the war. How do you think that I could have come to you, knowing that?"
"But, that's different…"
"How? We're all in the same war. Hawkeye was nice to me…"
"I'll bet he was," Frank snorted.
"He was a good friend," Margaret snapped. "He seemed to understand. He put all our differences aside and saw me as someone in need of a friend. Not only was he a good friend, but he was a good human being, something I don't see in you too often, Frank," she finished.
Frank wasn't sure whether to be hurt or angry. He just settled for exclaiming, "Margaret!" As this gained nothing, he tried a new approach. "They've poisoned your mind! They're turned you against me!"
Margaret sighed at the pitiful, pathetic picture before her. "No, Frank. I've opened my eyes. You didn't think you'd ever lose me, did you? Well, at least not until the war was over, and you'd have your wife and family to go back to. I got news for you. I've opened my eyes, and I don't like what I'm seeing."
Frank sniffed. "I've always admired you, Margaret. We always saw eye to eye. Not anymore. Now that you've teamed up with Pierce and McIntyre, nothing will be the same. This is the finish." With that, Frank stormed off into the night. Margaret felt a strange sensation wash over her, as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.