Four in the Morning

Margaret Houlihan walked wearily into her tent and sat down on the edge of the bed, shivering. It was 4 o' clock in the morning by her watch, and the air seemed to be getting colder and colder the longer the night dragged on. And what a long night it had been. After a grueling day in the OR, when everyone was just finally settling in for the night, they'd heard that all-too-fimiliar sound: choppers. There were lots of them, and the exhausted doctors and nurses of the 4077th had had to go back to the operating tables mere minutes after they'd left them.

Margaret shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to banish the horrible images from her mind. It wasn't working.

Death. That was all Margaret could think about these days. She had begun to dread getting up every morning because she didn't want to see anymore blood, anymore young boys who were missing an arm or a leg, anymore limp bodies. She was getting too soft, she thought. It didn't used to bother her that much; after all, she had been raised by the army, being tough was in her blood. But now, every time they lost a patient, she died a little inside; she would never admit that to anyone, but it was true.

Margaret shivered again, and stood up. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight, she knew that. She was desperately tired and wanted to sleep more than anything, but she was too rattled. And depressed. And alone, she thought sadly, I'm alone too. How wonderful.

She didn't really know where she was going when Margaret stepped out of her door that night, she just knew that she needed to get away. The four walls of the tent had seemed to be closing in around her, and she needed some space. If anything, the air was even colder now than it had been before, and she decided to go back to the OR to take shelter from the wind. Halfway there, Margaret thought better of it; she wasn't sure she could stand being in that room right now.

After walking around the camp for a couple of minutes, she sat down on a bench that was sitting outside the mess tent. She wasn't sure how it had gotten there, but she didn't care. Sitting alone under the dark, cloudy sky had to be better than sitting alone in her tent. But, she thought with a pang of longing, it didn't really matter; she was alone either way.

As she sat there thinking about how lonely she was, not just right now, but always, Margaret heard footsteps. It was too dark for her to see who it was, but she could guess. A moment later, Hawkeye Pierce sat down next to her.

"Hey," he said softly. She didn't respond, so he tried again. "Guess you couldn't sleep."

She shook her head.

"Neither could I," Hawkeye said. "My body's tired as hell, but my mind is working overtime. I just can't stop thinking about...I don't know." He ran his fingers through his black hair, and looked over at her. "That was one hell of a day, huh?"

Margaret nodded, and looked up into his eyes. They were full of pain and anger, and she understood exactly what he was feeling. "Yeah," she answered.

"I need to get out of here, Margaret." In a split second, his tone changed from sad to angry. "This...this damn war is breaking me up. I'm coming apart at the seams!" He was almost yelling now.

"I know," she said. She realized suddenly that she was on the verge of tears. "I feel the same way. I...I don't want to feel this way, Hawkeye." Tears were rolling down her cheeks now, and she turned away.

Hearing how choked up she sounded, he looked over at her again. She had her back turned to him now, but by the way her shoulders shook he could tell she was crying. Instantly, his anger melted, and he put his hands on her shoulders.

"Margaret. Margaret, look at me," he whispered. "Please."

She was crying harder now, and she tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight. "I...I just...I can't take it anymore," she said between sobs. "My whole world... is... coming down around me."

Hawkeye was worried. He had seen her pretty worked up before, but never like this. "Tell me," he said softly.

"There's so much... death...I just can't take it...it never used to...to bother me like this...I just want this war to be over...I feel so alone....I don't want to be alone, Hawkeye...." Her sobs overcame her, and she couldn't speak anymore. She turned to him again and buried her face in his chest.

"You're not alone," he said. "I'm here for you, Margaret. I'm not gonna let you go." He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. They sat like that for a long time, not saying anything.

When she finally returned to her tent around 5:30 that morning, Margaret looked into the mirror. Her cheeks were tear-stained and her hair was a mess, but there was a glimmer of hope in her eyes that hadn't been there for a long time. She smiled. Maybe, if they held onto each other tight enough, she and Hawkeye would see the end of this war. Together.

Not only is this my 1st MASH story, this is my 1st EVER piece of fan-fiction!!!!! Please review and tell me what you think!! :)