She wasn't afraid anymore. At least, not all of the time. When she was with him, nothing else mattered; she could forget about the war, about the death that surrounded them, about everything else that was wrong with her life. She could be herself. Wow, what a feeling.
But there was always something missing. She and Hawkeye had become better friends than she had ever imagined they would be, but... that was all. That night three weeks ago when she had found him outside the officer's club, when she had cried on his shoulder and he had held her so tightly in his arms... Margaret had felt a stronger connection with him than she had ever felt with anyone. Hawkeye understood her, understood her pain and her desperation, understood why she pushed people away. It was a foreign but wonderful sensation for her, feeling understood. But as much as she had opened up to him over the past few weeks, she had never been able to ask him how he really felt; did he love her? She thought she loved him, but she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she knew how to love anymore.
And, more importantly, she wasn't sure it was possible for anyone to love her anymore.
Margaret tried not to think about that. It was ridiculous, really; a person couldn't just become unlovable. Could they?....
"Major? Margaret? You okay?"
Captain BJ Hunnicut's voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see him standing in front of her, holding a tray of... some kind of food. Ahh, that's right; she was in the not-yet-crowded mess tent, sitting alone with her cup of coffee as people began to stream in for an early lunch. Seeing the quizzical expression on the captain's face, she frowned.
"BJ?"
"You're all by yourself. Want company?"
All she really wanted was to be left alone, but she knew he was just trying to be nice. Margaret shrugged, and he sat down across from her.
"So," BJ began, "how's lunch today? Edible?" When she didn't answer, he reached across the table and lightly tapped her hand. "Margaret?"
"What?"
"Are you all right? You seem a little...."
"I'm fine," she snapped, not letting him finish. Her voice sounded harsher than she had intended, and BJ gave her a puzzled look. Margaret ignored him, and stared down into her coffee.
"Margaret! Beej!"
Great. Just who she didn't want to see right now.
A smiling Hawkeye sauntered in the door, and made his way to their table. The confused look on BJ's face, and the downcast one on Margaret's, made him hesitate.
"Why so glum, chums?" Hawkeye asked.
"I'm not glum," BJ replied. He gestured toward Margaret. "She's the one who's glum."
Hawkeye sat down next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder. He frowned when she stiffened at his touch.
"What's the matter? You look terrible."
She glared at him. There was no way she was going to tell him what was wrong, not this time. Not when he was the reason she was feeling so... whatever the hell she was feeling.
"I'm fine, Pierce."
"'Pierce'? What happened to 'Hawkeye'?" He stared at her, and she wondered if he could see the pain in her eyes.
"You're not fine, Margaret. I know you well enough to say that."
Why did he always have to be right? She glared at him again, trying to mask her hurt with anger. Get mad, she told herself. Get really mad. You can pull that off, it's easy. At least, it always used to be.
"Margaret, you're ignoring me."
"Obviously."
"Uh, Hawk?" BJ cut into the conversation, and both Hawkeye and Margaret jumped. The expression on the captain's face was so comical that Margaret almost wanted to laugh. He had been so quiet that she had actually forgotten he was there.
"Sorry, Beej." Hawkeye sighed. "Our little talk is ruining your lunch."
"No, no, it's fine." Hunnicut stood up and stepped away from the table, eyeing his friends nervously. "You two... talk. I'll see you later." He took one last look at Hawkeye, and walked away.
They sat there on the bench, silent. Hawkeye had dropped his arm from her shoulder, and Margaret could tell he was annoyed. Oh well, she told herself, you didn't want to talk to him anyway. Not right now, at least.
The lunch hour ticked by, tense minute by tense minute. Everyone else had disappeared from the mess tent, and they were alone. Neither of them said anything, but neither of them left either. Margaret tried her best to stay angry with him, but she could feel her resolve slipping away. Finally, she just couldn't stand the silence.
"I'm sorry, Hawkeye, this is a bad day. I've got a lot on my mind." She was pleased at the way that sounded, not too fragile, not too tough. Good cover, Hot Lips.
He turned to face her slowly. After a moment's hesitation, he placed his hand on top of hers.
"You sure you're all right?"
She tried to smile. "I'm all right."
Hawkeye shook his head and stood up from the table. "You're a devious woman, Margaret Houlihan. I know you're lying to me, but I suppose you're entitled." The crooked grin on his face faded, and he gave her a serious gaze. She looked away.
"However you want it," he said simply. He started for the door, and she buried her face in her hands. She wasn't expecting him to look back.
"I'm hoping for a chopper-free afternoon."
She sat up and looked at him, embarrassed.
"If you need me...." He studied her, concerned. "I mean if you want to talk, you know where I'll be."
She nodded, and closed her eyes. When she finally opened them again, Hawkeye was gone.
