Chapter 2
Rushing waves broke against the deck, tossing and pulling at the small ship, as huge swells of icy water rose and crashed into the hull. She gripped the railing as tight as she could, holding on for dear life, for fear she would be washed overboard and plunged into the darkness below.
But as hard as she tried, she was slipping, her firm grip wasn't holding. As hard as she tried, she couldn't find anything to grasp onto. The water had its hold on her, pulling her down with it. It was just too cold and too strong. Her hands were slipping, she couldn't hold on much longer...
Wait a moment, she wasn't on any boat.
And yet why was it that she felt as if she were struggling against something?
"Ahhhhh!"
Margaret opened her eyes suddenly. "Hawkeye!" He was wrestling with her, lifting her by the waist and pulling her with him as he rolled over. "Honey!" He was holding her so tight.
"Ahhh! No! Please! Ahhhhhhhhh!" His screams were piercing. She could hear the distress and terror in her voice. "Aaaaaaah!" He lifted her again and pulled her over him. Her body was diagonal to his and his grip on her hips was so strong. Her head landed with a thud against the mattress as her lower body landed on top of him. She was staring up at the ceiling in shock.
She thought he had stopped, but again he tried to move taking her with him. Margaret struggled against him trying to pull his hands off her. "BEN! Wake up." She tried to peal his fingers away, but they were stronger than hers. He was pressing into her flesh too hard. "Honey, stop." She finally managed to turn and face him, trying to pin his body down with her own. "Hawkeye," she yelled. After several more minutes of him thrashing beneath her she finally had him locked down, or so she thought. She found herself on her back pinned under him. It took all she had to push him off her. He landed next to her on his back.
Margaret sat up looking over him. She was breathing heavily from fighting against him. His body was covered in sweat. He was trembling and muttering incoherently as he tossed and gripped at the sheets. The screaming had stopped for the most part, but now he was whimpering. Unfortunately, this was all too familiar to Margaret.
She put a hand on his face and another on his shoulder to try to still him. "Ben." He was locked in the nightmare. "Honey, wake up." He turned his head and struggled under her weight.
"No!" He shouted abruptly. "No!" He tried to lift his arm to swing out, but she held him down.
"Hawkeye!"
"Ahhh!" He screamed, this time louder. "Please! No!" That's when he started crying. "Margaret!" He shouted. "Margaret!" He cried her name out again and again.
She shook him as hard as she could, calling out his name and caressing his hair. "I'm here, it's just a dream. I'm here."
"Stop! No!" His head thrashed back and forth on the pillow.
"Shhh." She tried to be soothing. "Honey, you're okay. I'm right here with you." She hated this. He was tormented in his sleep and she couldn't wake him up; she couldn't save him. "Hawkeye, wake up." His back arched up and he shouted some more. "Please wake up." She shook his shoulders again trying to jolt him out of it.
A second later his eyes popped open. His body jumped and then he realized what had happened. He was almost hyperventilating. "Oh God." He was looking into his wife's eyes wondering what he had done this time. She looked so scared.
"It's okay."
"No," he cried. "It's not okay. I'm not okay." He sat up and held onto her tightly.
Margaret wrapped her arms around him and held him as tightly as she could. He was crying uncontrollably against her chest, holding onto her in a way that scared her. "I'm here," she said over and over as she stroked his hair. "I've got you."
Eventually she was able to lie him down again, but he clung to her with his arms and his legs, lying mostly on top of her. The crying had started to subside, but the trembling hadn't. She was also growing increasingly worried over how hot he was. He was so sweaty, his body was burning up.
She continued to hold him and speak softly to him assuring him that he was okay and so was she. As she continued to speak to him he started to calm down more and more. It was all she could do for him when this happened, but sometimes what she could give him wasn't enough. Not enough for her anyway. She wanted to fix his problems and make him whole again, but all she could do was be there to hold him together when all else failed.
Margaret had tried to get him help, tried to get him to seek help on his own, but he didn't want anything to do with it. He told her over and over that all he needed was her and maybe some patience from her. To Margaret that didn't seem like enough. She wanted to do so much more, but was left practically helpless. As long as her husband was in pain she would never feel like she was doing all she could.
The trembling started to calm down some now, but he still had a tight hold on her. She wanted to try to get him up and get him to cool off some. "Honey..."
"No." He kept his face buried in her neck. He didn't want to talk, by the pitch of her voice he knew she was getting ready to try to make him talk.
"I'm just going to get a wet washcloth," she told him as she ran her fingers through his damp hair. "You're burning up." She moved her hand down to the side of his face.
"No," he mumbled. He didn't want to let her go.
"I'm not going to even leave the room," she reassured him. "I'll be right back." He was reluctant to let her go, even if it was for a moment. She was the only thing keeping him grounded. "Just lie back," she told him as she sat up. Brushing some hair from his face she said, "I'm not going anywhere." His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to keep them open. "Okay." She had just a few minutes before he realized he was alone.
Margaret got up and opened the window, allowing a gust of wind to blow into the room. Outside it was still raining, harder than it had been earlier, as the wind howled and pushed against the trees. The storm outside cooled the temperature unlike the storm inside her husband. She looked over at him for a moment before quickly running into the bathroom. She snatched up a clean clothe and ran it under the cold water. As she was wringing the water out she looked around the corner back into the bedroom to see if he was okay. He was sitting up looking around in a panic.
"I'm right here." She rushed back into the bedroom.
"You said you weren't leaving me." His eyes were filled with tears.
"I didn't." She sat down on the side of the bed. "Lay back down."
He sat straight up resisting her. "Are you going to lay with me?"
"I always do," she whispered. "Lay down."
"No."
"I'm not going anywhere," she tried to assure him. "Come on, lie down." She rubbed his back.
"You promise?" He asked wearily. He was feeling feverish and his whole body ached.
"I'm right here." She stroked his hair.
Her touch was making him feel delirious. He nodded wordlessly.
Margaret took the lead and lay down. As soon as she was there he laid down next to her, resting his head on her chest. She began patting the cold cloth on his face and head. "Is this helping?"
"Mmm hmm." His arm was wrapped around her holding tight.
"You're okay now."
"No."
"Yes you are. I have you now. You're awake and you're with me."
He nodded. His insides were still spinning, but he could feel them slowing a bit. The longer she held him the stronger he became. He hoped one day he could be just as strong for her. "It was so real, Margaret."
"Do you want to talk about it?" She rubbed the cloth down his neck and across his shoulders.
He breathed in deeply. The cold wind enhanced the effect of the wet cloth. "No," he sighed. He didn't want to relive it again.
Margaret wasn't about to pressure him, she knew the answer anyway. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrible," he moaned. He was hot and achy and nauseous.
"Roll over," she told him. "You're not getting the breeze."
"I'm fine," he grumbled against her chest.
"You're soaking wet," she said. "You need to cool down."
Reluctantly he rolled over onto his back; the cool air did feel nice. She moved the cloth over his face again and down to his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly, but it wasn't anything like it had been when he had first woken up.
Hawkeye stopped her movements by placing his hand on her wrist. "I need to go outside."
She looked at him. "No you don't."
"Margaret."
"You don't need to go." She pulled her hand from his grip and moved the cloth back to his face. "What you need is to lay here and cool down."
He wasn't going to fight with her over it at the moment. "I will."
"Good." She leaned over and kissed him. His body was so hot that the cloth wasn't even cool anymore. "I'll be right back."
"Don't go."
"Just for more water."
"No." He took the cloth from her and tossed it away. "Just stay here with me."
"You need to cool down. I'll just..."
"Either stay here with me or let me go outside."
"If you got outside you'll be alone, I won't go with you," she told him.
"I can't stay in here," he said through gritted teeth. His eyes were beginning to water. "Please, you can't leave me," he begged. "Please, just don't leave me." He put his arms around her waist and laid his head on her lap.
It always broke her heart when he did that. "I'm here." She rubbed his back.
"Will you stay with me all night?"
"Of course." She was still worried about his fever though. "Are you cold?" She thought the wind felt icy.
"No." He felt so comfortable lying in her arms.
She knew otherwise, he was shivering. "Maybe I should change the sheets." They were damp.
"No," he protested.
"Will you at least take those off?" She wanted to dry him off before he fell asleep.
"Yeah." He didn't make a move to take them off though. He stayed there and held onto her.
"Look, maybe we should change the sheets. We'll both sleep better."
"I don't want to sleep." He was so tired, but he didn't want to dream anymore.
"You'll be okay. Come on. We'll do it together." She looked down at him waiting for a response. "Hmm?"
He sighed deeply. "Okay." He was just beginning to realize how wet the sheets really were and that his boxers were soaked.
Hawkeye stood up and followed his wife out to the linen closet in the hallway. She took down some sheets and then he followed her back. Margaret started to strip the bed while Hawkeye looked on. He was standing behind her watching. "Why don't you take those off now?" She didn't need to turn around to know that he was just standing there. He was always so lost when this happened. "I can get you another pair if you like."
"I can do it," he snapped.
She looked over her shoulder at him. "Okay. Do you want to toss these in the bathroom too?" She passed the old sheets into his arms.
For a moment he just stood there, not wanting to leave the room. Finally he walked over to the bathroom doorway and threw them in there on the floor.
She started with the top sheet then and began fixing the hospital corners. "Should I put the blanket back on?"
"No." He was feeling much too warm as it was.
She tucked the last one under and then started with the pillow cases. "Take those off," she nodded to his shorts. "You should have some clean ones in your drawer." He had that blank expression on his face again. "Darling..." She tossed the pillows on the bed and walked over to him. He was just standing there, looking like he'd been run through the washer and punched in the stomach. Margaret pulled his boxers down and let them fall to the floor.
"Ah," he breathed. "I'll just stay like this.""If you want." She brought him back to the bed and they lay down. She pulled the top sheet over the two of them while he found a comfortable place to settle. His head ended up on her chest again and he wrapped one leg over hers, giving her a full body hug. "Are you okay?"
"Getting there," he yawned.Margaret was softly stroking his hair. She could feel his face cooling down some. "I love you."He looked up at her face. Why did this woman love him so much? Why did she take care of him like this? "You won't fall asleep before me, will you?"
"No," she told him softly. "Go to sleep. I'm here."
"And you won't leave me before I wake up?"
"I'm not going anywhere," she reassured him. "I'll be here."
He laid his head on her chest again and snuggled against her a little more. She stroked his hair and back repetitiously until he finally fell asleep. Finally, nearly an hour later, so did she. Throughout the rest of the night he continued to have little episodes, although nothing was as bad as the first. She always awoke at the slightest movement or noise, readily afraid that he was going to wake up screaming.
By the time morning came, and the sun appeared over the horizon, Margaret was exhausted. He had finally fallen asleep again, this time into a deep and dreamless slumber. Hawkeye always slept better during the day then he did at night.
With him sleeping peacefully she finally allowed herself to relax and join him. They were both clutching to the other for dear life and stayed just that way until they woke late that morning. She wanted to let him sleep longer, but he tightened his grip at her movement. "Stay," he mumbled.
"It's nearly eleven o'clock." She knew that he needed to get out of bed now otherwise he'd stay there all day. He had a hard enough time normally.
"So." He didn't care as long as she was there with him. At least if they were in bed he could hold onto her. Sometimes he felt like he'd drift away without her.
"You'll feel better after a shower and something to eat." She tried to sound encouraging, but her sleepy voice wasn't helping.
"I'm fine."
"I suppose I could get up and you could stay here." He opened his eyes. "If that's what you really want."
"Margaret," he groaned.
"Ben, you need to get out of this bed. There are things we have to do."
"No there isn't."
He had her there. Their schedule was pretty much clear for the weekend. "The lawn needs to be mowed."
"No it doesn't." He had taken care of that. She was just looking for a way to get him up.
Margaret sighed. "Well I'm getting up." She couldn't stay there all day like that. It was depressing.
She went to move, but he held her in place. "I thought you liked to stay in bed with me."
"You know I do," she told him sincerely. She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. "We can still cuddle on the couch or in the tub."
Hawkeye wanted to be everywhere she was. He wasn't going to leave her side at all for the next two days. "Okay." It was better than being alone in bed.
"Do you want to shower now?" She ran her hands up and down his arms.
"No."
"Okay, well how about I pour us some juice and we can curl up on the couch?" Coffee only seemed to make things worse now. The caffeine kept him up all night and only appeared to intensify his anxiety.
Hawkeye nodded slowly. "Okay."
He lifted his arm and she got up. It took some motivation, but he climbed out of bed and together they walked to the kitchen. He stood right behind her as she poured them each a glass. "Did you want to put on a pair of shorts before we sat down?" He was standing so close to her that their thighs were touching.
"No."
Margaret turned and handed him a glass. "Excuse me." She needed a little more room than he was giving her. She placed the carton back into the refrigerator and when she turned around he was right there next to her. "Honey," she touched his face gently and gave him a kiss. "Are you hungry?"
"No." He put the glass to his lips and realized for the first time just how thirsty he was.
She reached for her glass and gave it to him before going back to get the juice out again. "Should I bring this with us?"
"Just fill them up." He held the empty glasses out.
"Just enough," she said as the last drops emptied into the glass.
"What do you think of going outside? It looks nice out."
"No," she responded immediately. She knew exactly what he wanted.
"We could go for a run," he suggested.
Margaret knew he wasn't in any condition to do such a thing. He looked like he was about to pass out as it was. "Why don't we just cuddle together on the couch?"
"Okay."
"Maybe later we can take a nap." Hawkeye nodded. She took her glass back and walked out into the living room. He pulled the blanket off the top of the couch and sat down beside her. "Aren't you cold?"
"No, it feels good," he told her.
Margaret put her hand and his arm and then his face. "You still are a little warm." He had no regard for his own well being. She would find bruises on his legs or the odd cut on his arm, and he never seemed to have a recollection of it. He never whined or complained, only when it concerned her.
"I'm okay." As long as he wasn't locked in another nightmare he was fine. If he could see that she was safe then he was okay.
"No you're not."
"Honey, there's nothing wrong with me... at least not on the outside."
"Oh, don't say that." She couldn't stand when he said things like that. There wasn't anything wrong with him.
"It's fine. Will you put this over there?" He handed her the glass.
She took it and waited for him to settle down. After trying to get comfortable he finally settled with his head in her lap looking up at the ceiling. "Are you good now?"
"Yeah." He was still so tired. If she wouldn't let him stay in bed he would just fall asleep on the couch.
"Do you want me to get you something?" She wished he would drink more juice. He was awfully dehydrated after sweating so much.
"I'm fine." And he was when he was with her.
"How's your head? I can get you something for it."
"Honey, I'm okay." He was just tired and frazzled.
"I'm just making sure." She really was worried. "I love you, you know."
Hawkeye smiled. He was relieved to hear that. "I love you too."
She was so glad to see that smile again. He didn't let it show often enough these days, but when he did she felt like everything would be okay. Margaret bent down and kissed him. She smoothed his hair back off his face to get a good look at him. "You know what will make you feel better?"
"Hmm?" She was the only thing that could make him feel better, but he'd humor her and let her speak. The sound of her voice was comforting.
"A nice shower."
"Not yet. I like things the way they are right now."
"Okay." She only wanted him to feel better. Eventually he'd have to do something on his own because when Monday morning came and she had to return to work she wanted him to be able to function on his own. When he had bad days it was hard for him to be without her and she knew that. Part of her loved when he was clinging to her because she knew he needed her, but then part of her wanted to make him let go some for his own well being. But for the moment things were just fine the way they were.
She spoke softly to him about mundane things hoping it would bring him back to where they were instead of where his mind was. His mind was in the past and she wanted him to be able to be with her in the present without worrying about what happened at another time. Her greatest hope was that one day the two of them would be able to do that, but it was going to take time to get there.
His responses weren't much and after a while they stopped. He had fallen back to sleep. At least this time he was peaceful. She sat there for a while watching him thinking about the two of them, mostly him.
Margaret sat there for nearly an hour, watching television and stroking his hair as he slept. She had contemplated getting up, but she didn't want to disturb him. He was a very light sleeper and would awake at the slightest movement. For the first time since that morning he was reasonably calm.
Eventually, she too fell asleep. She had spent the greater part of the night lying awake, waiting for the moment when he would cry out again.
When he woke up he fully expected to be alone on the couch. He didn't think she would fall asleep like she had. Hawkeye sat up and laid her down on the couch so she would be more comfortable. He stood there for a moment looking at her, noticing for the first time how drained she looked. He had done that to her, he was sure of it. When they went to sleep the night before she didn't look like that, but now she looked like she too had been run through the washer and it was all because of him. He was supposed to take care of this woman and he didn't fell like he was doing it well.
He covered her with a blanket and really noticed for the first time that he was still naked. He walked over to the window deciding he didn't care if anyone was nosy enough to look in. It was starting to look like the storm had passed. There was a break in the clouds, but another storm didn't look too far behind. That was fine by him. Being cooped up inside with his wife sounded pretty good.
He heard her move and looked over the back of the couch to see she had turned over onto her side. Watching her, he felt the guilt set in again. She never had time to be happy; she was constantly worrying over him. There were times when he thought she would be better off without him, at least then she'd be happy. Then again, who was he kidding? He'd blow his head off if she left him.
"What time is it?" He looked down to find her looking up at him.
"Um..." He had to think. His mind had been else where. "Oneish."
Margaret stretched. "Have you been awake long?" She asked through a yawn.
"No."
She lay there, feeling somewhat refreshed, and looked up at him. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm okay." It was a lie. He was feeling increasingly guilty.
"How about that shower now?" She asked him. At the moment nothing seemed better on a rainy day then talking a hot, steamy shower with her handsome husband.
He shrugged his shoulders. "If you want." He was less than enthused at the idea.
"Don't you want to take a shower with your wife?"
"I do." He bent over the back of the couch and gave her a kiss. "How are you feeling?"
"Depends how you're feeling." His face was still close to hers.
"Ah."
Margaret put her hand to his face. "You feel cooler."
"Yeah." He stood up breathing heavily. "I'm going to step outside for a bit before it starts to rain again."
"Don't go." She caught his hand before he moved too far away. "Stay with me."
He knew her intentions were good, but he had to go. "I'll be right back. You can come with me."
"No thank you." She didn't want to give him any indignation that she approved.
"Why don't you start the water and I'll be there in a minute," he suggested.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. "Do you plan to go out there naked?"
Hawkeye looked down, he'd momentarily forgotten about that. "No," he said blankly.
"Just come with me," she urged him as she picked up his hand. Hawkeye hesitated. "You can't tell me you don't want to take a shower with your naked wife."
And be dejected when they were about to make love again? "Well..."
"Come on," she stood up.
He thought about it for a moment. "I won't be long." She looked at him in that disappointing look she had. "I need it."
"No you don't."
"Margaret..." His voice was warning. He wasn't in the mood to hear it.
She wasn't going to fight with him. "I'll wait for you in the shower then."
He nodded and walked away to the back of the house. There were some shorts on the dryer that he could slip on quickly. He hated the way she always made him feel so guilty. Hawkeye stepped out onto the back porch alone.
Margaret stood alone in the shower, feeling guilty for...well she didn't know. She had come to the conclusion that she had done something wrong, and that was why he didn't want to be with her now. Why couldn't she do more? Perhaps what she was doing now wasn't enough. Maybe he didn't really need her and she was just clinging to him.
Taking a shower alone on a Saturday morning wasn't something she was accustomed to. During the week, yes, but not on the weekend. The weekends had always been a time for the two of them to be together, even in the shower. Even if they didn't shower together they were at least in the same room. Now he wasn't even in the house. She didn't want to read too much into it, but she couldn't help it. Before he fell asleep he was asking her not to leave him, but now he seemed satisfied to be alone and pass up the chance to shower with her.
After washing her hair she began to soap up her body. She noticed a little tenderness on her hip that hadn't been there before. It didn't hurt, but it was noticeable. Since he didn't seem to want to shower with her she got out and wrapped a towel around herself. She had given him plenty of time already. She could take a hint.
Hawkeye walked into the bathroom and stopped when he saw her. "You're out already." He sounded shocked.
"Yes. I wasn't sure if you were going to come."
"I told you I would." He seemed a little confused.
"I waited for nearly fifteen minutes," she told him. Margaret didn't want to appear cool, but the fact was he had disappointed her.
"I'm sorry." And he seemed it. "I hadn't realized I had been out there that long."
"You couldn't decide to come in when you got cold?"
"The wind felt good," he told her.
Margaret noticed that his nipples were hard and his skin was flushed. She could only imagine what he looked like under those shorts. "I'll set you out a clean towel for when you get out," she said as she tried to move past him.
"What?" He furrowed his brow. "Aren't you going to shower with me?"
"I washed while I was waiting for you."
He caught her arm. "Please, take one with me."
She looked at him and sighed. Maybe she had made a big deal over nothing. "I'm already dry."
"Oh." His eyes looked away from her. He didn't want to be hurt by that, at least he didn't want her to know.
"I'll start the water for you." She slipped out of his grasp and moved to the tub. "I hope you don't catch something." Why didn't he ever think of himself?
"I'm fine. I'd be a lot better if you'd shower with me." He sat down on the side of the tub and looked up at her.
"I didn't think you wanted to."
"Margaret, when have I ever passed up the opportunity to shower with you?"
She thought for a moment. "I guess you haven't."
"Is there any reason I would start now?" She shook her head. Hawkeye stood up to kiss her, but she turned her head away. "What?" He was stunned. He had never thought that she would push him away like that.
"I'm not kissing you until you brush your teeth."
He'd momentarily forgotten about that. "I'm sorry."
Changing the subject back to their previous one she said, "You weren't so eager to shower with me earlier."
"I was tired; it didn't mean I don't want to be with you." He really wanted her to stay with him.
"Don't forget to scrub your tongue."
Hawkeye picked up his tooth brush. "Please honey."
She couldn't have said no to him even if she wanted. "I guess there's no such thing as too clean."
Hawkeye smiled at her over his shoulder. "Good." He mumbled as he started to brush his teeth.
Margaret dropped her towel and got back into the warm shower. She felt a little silly for not waiting for him. He would have waited forever for her before he gave up. "We need another bar of soap."
"Huh?" He turned around.
She poked her head out from behind the curtain. "There's some under the sink." He was looking very confused. "The soap."
"Oh." He nodded. He rinsed his mouth out and then grabbed a new bar. "Do I need mouthwash?" He handed her the soap.
"It wouldn't hurt."
He'd do anything to get back into her good graces. What was a shower with your wife without kissing? He opened the cabinet and took a swig of mouth wash. After a minute he spit it out and rinsed out the sink. Slipping off his shorts, he pulled back the curtain and got in with her. "There."
"Thank you." She was standing under the warm water.
"I really am sorry I kept you waiting for so long," he told her with a sad look on his face. He wrapped his arms around her waist. "Can you forgive me?"
There was really no point in being upset. She was more scared then angry. "Yes." She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
"Thank you," he said quietly as he rested his forehead against hers.
"I wish you would have just come with me."
"I know." He gave her a kiss.
"Wash your hair good."
"I'm not a child."
"Yes, I know." Margaret pushed his hair back to get a good look at his face. He was looking better now. "You know..." She paused for a moment. "You're a very good looking man."
She had looked so serious when she said that. "You're not too bad yourself." He gave her a soft kiss. "Thank you for everything this morning."
"You don't have to thank me."
He felt like she did more for him than he did for her and had no idea why on earth she loved him like she did. He never doubted her love, but he just couldn't understand why she loved him so much. He didn't even like himself most of the time and here was this woman, standing naked in his arms, who loved him more than he ever imagined possible.
"We can do anything you want today," he told her as he held her securely around the waist. He moved his mouth to her ear, "Anything at all." He leaned down and kissed her neck.
"I just want to spend time with you," she told him as she rested her head against his shoulder. "That's all."
Hawkeye didn't know if that meant she didn't want to make love or not. He suddenly felt that hesitation creeping up on him again. "Oh."
Instantaneously Margaret knew what was bothering him, what had upset him last night. It had all been in his tone of voice. "Oh no! I didn't mean that!" She put her hand on his face and forced him to look at her. "You know I love making love to you, I didn't mean that at all."
The look on his face was a perplexing one. "You do?"
"Of course I do!" She kissed his lips. "Darling, I love you."
He was very tempted to ask why, but he didn't really want to know the answer. So instead he told her that he loved her too. She seemed to be satisfied with that because she rested her head against him and relaxed. It seemed like she was clinging to him, rather than the other way around. It felt good to be strong for a moment.
It occurred to Margaret that they were just standing there under the warm water holding onto one another. The hot water would only last so long and he deserved to clean up like she did. She looked up at him. "I'll wash your back for you."
He smiled and nodded. "That sounds good. I can feel the water getting colder already."
"Turn off some of the cold."
He listened and turned the cold water down. "Oooh, that's better," he said as he turned around.
Margaret picked up the soap and started to lather his back. Her hands moved over the smooth muscles in his shoulders and then down to his waist where she returned up by way of his sides. He really did have a gorgeous body. Not many women were lucky enough to have a man such as him.
"Where did you get this from?" She ran her hand over an unusual long scratch running down his arm.
"Where?" He brought his hand behind his back to where hers were. She placed his hand on the scratch. "Oh. I don't know."
"How can you not know?" It looked like it would have hurt. At least enough to notice that he caught on something.
"I must have gotten it working out in the garage yesterday."
"Oh. It doesn't hurt?"
"No." Hawkeye moved under the water and let some of the soap rinse off his back while he wetted his hair enough to lather it up with some shampoo.
He turned to face her and she noticed another new mark on his forearm. "Honey, this looks pretty serious."
"No." Margaret gave him a skeptical look. "I changed the oil in the car yesterday. I got caught on something."
She had found a similar mark on his thigh not too long ago. Like now, he had no recollection of how he'd acquired it. He had a high thresh hold for physical pain. "Why don't you let me put a dressing on this when we get out?"
"Margaret, it's okay."
There was dried blood around the area; she'd have to check his T-shirt for stains. "I want to put some ointment on it so it doesn't become infected."
"You're washing it, that's good enough." There was a slight edge to his voice.
She placed a kiss on his back. "I'm allowed to worry about you, aren't I?"
He really didn't know what to say, he was torn. Hawkeye hated it that she worried about him like she did; but then again, she was the only one that cared. "Yes," he finally answered.
"I'm your wife." Her arms went around his waist. "It's my job to worry about you."
Hawkeye turned around and looked at her. "You don't need to worry so much. I'll know when I need to take care of a little cut. I used to be a very good doctor at one time."
She didn't like to think of that as something in the past. One day he would use his skills again, she was sure of it. "You still are."
"No." He didn't want to get into that with her again. There wasn't much they fought about, but that was a very touchy topic with the two of them.
She didn't say anything else but continued to soap up his chest and arms. There were a few scars here and there from various injuries, but she didn't notice any new ones. "Are you hungry?"
"Yeah."
"I'll make us a nice lunch. Does that sound good?" She looked up at him.
"If you want." He was actually starving now. He was feeling a lot better and really wanted something hearty. Steak sounded good, but he didn't think she'd make that for lunch.
"I haven't made a meal all week." He had been nice enough to take care of everything.
"Don't worry about it." He didn't mind cooking supper. It seemed as though that was the only thing he really did for her.
"What do you feel like eating?" She was eager to make him a nice meal.
"I don't care." Hawkeye wasn't very decisive those days.
"I'll have to look and see what we have when we get out," she said as she washed his stomach. She loved running her hand over the muscles. Margaret had gotten quite a few compliments over him, all of which she knew were true. He was a very sexy man.
"Okay." He would eat anything she made. She was surprisingly a very good cook.
Margaret soaped up her hands, working them into a lather, and started washing up his right thigh. He really did have big thighs. The muscles were so tight. That weight bench she had bought him for Christmas last year was really getting use. She had thought it was a good way for him to work out some of his frustrations, but it had worked a lot better than she had imagined it would. She was very happy that he was using exercise as an outlet rather than drinking like he used to do.
Her hands moved across his body with ease and comfort. He never made her feel like she as doing anything wrong by lingering in one spot a little longer than she did. It was as if he enjoyed the touching and caressing. It put him at ease somehow. She was crouched down so she was eye level to his waist. When she looked up he had his eyes closed letting the hot water run over his face, calming him.
She ran her hands down the backs of his thighs and calves. They were so tight and sculpted. She moved back up by way of his shins, over his knees and up to his pelvis. Her hands moved around to his lower back and then down over his firm buttocks. Margaret looked up again, his eyes were still closed. His face looked so calm.
She hated to disturb him and make him open his eyes, but she had one more place to wash. When she touched him there his eyes stayed closed much to her surprise. She didn't get much of a reaction from him at all. In a way she supposed that was good. At least he was still calm.
Margaret slowly stood to her feet running her hands up his sides. She let the water wash away the soap on her hands and arms. That was when he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her body against his, giving her a tender kiss. She smiled at him. "I thought you were in another world."
"Nah, I was coming back to this one."
"Well good. Now I'm all soapy."
Hawkeye grinned and rubbed his body up and down against her. She started to giggle. "Now you're all scrubbed too."
"You are awfully bristly," she smirked. She doubted he had shaved the day before, possibly even the day before that.
"I could say the same for you," he lifted his eyebrows suggestively.
"I'll have you know I did that while I was waiting for you," she told him. "My legs are very smooth."
"Mmm, I can think of something else that's smooth." She felt his hand move to her behind and cup a cheek in his palm.
Margaret giggled and mimicked his previous action. "Oooh, very nice." She squeezed him gently.
"Well, I do try," he smiled.
"Or maybe you've just had a lot of ass kissing," she smirked.
He narrowed his eyes. "Real funny." She had no idea what her teasing meant to him. He was feeling better and she could tell. "You, Mrs. Pierce, have the only ass I would even consider kissing."
"Well good. The water's getting cold." She pointed out the obvious.
"It won't hurt you."
"But it's cold. I need to rinse this soap off me."
"I didn't even get to wash you." He was very disappointed. If he had a chance he could make their shower a lot more fun.
"You can do it later." She gave him a kiss and pulled out of his arms to rinse. "I promise."
"Oooh, does that mean I get to give you a reason?" He had that familiar old look on his face. Margaret's heart warmed when she saw it.
"It has to be a really good one," she grinned at him from under the water.
"Isn't it always?" He gave her a grin that reflected her own.
"You said you'd do anything I wanted." It was so nice to see him smile again.
"Ah, that I did."
Margaret turned off the water. "Would you hand me a towel please?"
Hawkeye opened the curtain and grabbed a towel off the rack and handed it to her. "You know, you don't have to get dressed," he said as he watched her dry her breasts and then arms.
She cocked an eyebrow and glanced at him. "I'm going to cook us lunch."
"Well..." He looked her up and down. "I would hate for you to burn something."
"Yes, so would I." She wrapped her towel around herself and tossed him one. "Do me a favor?"
"Sure." He stepped out of the tub and wrapped the towel low on his waist.
"Shave." She brushed her hand across his cheek. "I like kissing a man with a smooth face."
"We'll see." He gave her a kiss making sure to brush his stubble against her.
"Honey," she whined. "That hurt."
"Oh it did not." She stuck her bottom lip out, pouting. "Aww. I'll fix it." He kissed all around her face. "There you go. Is that better?"
She nodded. "Thank you. Now will you shave for me?"
"I'll consider it."
"Then you won't be kissing me anytime soon," she called back to him as she sashayed out of the bathroom.
"Hey! That's not fair!"
"Then you better shave, hadn't you?" She hated it when they made love and he had long bristles on his face. It made the intimate kissing painful rather than pleasurable. She hated getting whisker burns on her breasts and stomach.
"Yeah..." He mumbled something else which she couldn't hear.
Margaret didn't take much care into getting dressed. She put on an old shirt and a pair of shorts. If he had his way, and he usually got it, she wouldn't be wearing clothes for long. Walking back into the bathroom, she saw him standing at the sink, shaving his right cheek. She hung the towel on the rack and then stood beside him as she watched. "Thank you honey," she said to him.
Hawkeye glanced over at her. "It was starting to get long anyway."
She wanted to comment on his hair as long as they were on the subject, but she decided him shaving for her was enough to be asking at the moment. "I'm going to start making lunch." She kissed his bicep. "Is there anything that you can think of that you want?"
"Anything is fine with me," he said as he shaved the underside of his jaw.
"Are you sure?"
"Mmm hmm."
"Okay." She knew he had to be hungry and wanted to make him something nice. She hadn't cooked anything recently, but their house was full of food so she had many choices. "I'll pick something good for you."
"Us." He called as she walked out.
"You," she yelled back. It didn't matter to her what they ate, but he needed something good. A nice meal always made him feel better.
Margaret searched through the kitchen to see what she could find while he was finishing up in the bathroom. He came out wearing a pair of shorts and smelling very masculine. She heard his bare feet hitting against the wood floors. "What did you find?"
"What do you think of steak?"
"I take it that we're having a light dinner?" He gave her a soft smile. "Steak sounds wonderful."
"Good." That made Margaret happy. She wanted him to be satisfied with this meal. Margaret knew how much he liked steak. "I was also thinking of frying up some potatoes."
"Sounds delicious."
A nice glass of wine would have been lovely with their steak, but they didn't keep alcohol in the house. After being dependant on it for so long, Hawkeye had given up alcohol all together. And in being a supportive wife, Margaret didn't drink it either.
"Can I do something to help?" He asked as he watched her pull the meat out of the freezer.
"You can dice the potatoes if you like."
"Alright." Hawkeye grabbed a few of them and stood at the counter and started to cut them up. Margaret stopped and watched his hands move. It seemed so silly but she loved to watch his hands work. He was very at ease with the sharp knife in his hand. "Hey, are you okay?" He noticed her watching him.
"Yes." She pulled out a pan from under the counter. "Why do you smell so good?"
"What?" He chuckled.
"You smell really good. We're not even going anywhere."
"Well I feel good." He leaned over and kissed her. "Will you get a pan for these?"
Margaret didn't know what had happened to change his demeanor. Had it been the caressing in the shower? He hadn't even been aroused by that. "Of course." She bent down and pulled out another pan.
"Thank you," he smiled at her cheerfully.
So now Margaret was very perplexed. Had he been afraid that she didn't want to be with him? His mood seemed to have changed after she told him. Then again, she didn't even know what had upset him the night before. "Do we have anything to drink?" She asked.
"I made some iced tea yesterday."
"Oh, that sounds good." She hoped he'd sliced some lemon too.
"There's some lemon on the second shelf," he told her.
Margaret smiled and leaned against the counter. "You're pretty wonderful, you know that?"
Hawkeye had never thought of himself as anything remotely wonderful. "It's just iced tea."
"I love you." She stepped closer and pulled his head down so she could kiss him sensually.
"Mmm," he smiled at her. "I love you too."
"How about I make dinner and you can feel free to do nothing?""No, I want to be with you. I want to help you."
"Are you sure? You don't want to go relax?"He shook his head no. "Did you want me out of your way?" Now he wasn't so sure he was welcome in the kitchen.
"You're not in my way." She wrapped her arms around him. "I'd rather have you with me." She kissed him. "I'd take you to work with me if I could."
He chuckled. He could just see himself now. "Well I don't know about that." Some days he did feel like following her, but for the most part he was okay.
"That's true. There are way too many nurses that would be eying you. I don't like that."
"I thought they were all terrified of me." And he had given them plenty of reason to be.
"I overheard them talking about how sexy you were." At the time Margaret hadn't known whether to be mad or amused.
"Me?" He didn't see himself as desirable.
"You are very handsome," she told him sincerely. "And a really good lay."
"I'm already married to you; you don't have to worry about winning me over."
"Well, I'm not as young or nearly attractive as those girls."
"You are beautiful." There wasn't the least bit of amusement in his voice. "So beautiful."
She shook her head no. "I..."
Before she had the chance to say anything else he stopped her. He had her face cupped in his hands and made her looked directly into his eyes. "You are the most gorgeous woman on earth. No one compares to you."
"I'm over thirty years old."
"Barely, but that doesn't matter in the least." He kissed her tenderly.
She had often seen young women admiring her husband. There were times it didn't bother her because she was the one wearing his ring, but other times it would get to her. "They were talking about you like I don't deserve you." It had been bothering her for a while now, but she wasn't sure how to bring it up.
"If they knew the things you do for me they'd realize I'm the one that doesn't deserve you."
Tears started to form in her eyes. "No honey, that's not true."
"Margaret, you're beautiful. When I look at you I feel like the luckiest man in the world."
"You do?"
"Yes," he told her softly. "I do."
Margaret tried to withhold the overwhelming urge to start crying. "I..." There were so many emotions that she had been repressing. "I..."
"Shhh." He moved his arms around her. As much as he hated to see her cry, it felt good to be the strong one for once.
"I feel so foolish." It came out muffled through his shirt.
He rubbed her back. "There's nothing to feel foolish about."
"If you say so." She laid her head against him and relaxed.
"Would I lie to you?"
"No." She could hear his heart beating. "I don't ever want to lose you."
"You won't." He kissed the side of her head.
"I get so..."
"I understand." She didn't need to tell him how she felt. He knew exactly what she was feeling. Sometimes he got so caught up in himself that he forgot she had plenty of her own insecurities.
"I'm so glad the weekend is here."
"So am I." He leaned back a bit to look at her face. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She smiled at him. "I like it when you tell me I'm beautiful."
"Well you are." He gave her a kiss. Knowing that she needed him for something made him feel a little better about himself. "Maybe I should cook this and you can relax."
"No." She pulled out of his arms. "I want to do it." Margaret turned the stove on and placed the steaks in the pan.
"Well," he put his hands on her shoulders. "Why don't we relax together afterwards?"
She put her hand on top of his. "That was my plan."
He leaned down and kissed her neck. "And then later...I get to do the washing in the shower."
Margaret smiled. "I don't know, you seemed to like it more than I would."
"All the more reason."
Margaret was rather enjoying his affection and playfulness. "We'll see."
"We'll see?"
"It all depends on how well you do the dishes."
"Why don't we forget about the dishes," he suggested. "There's something I can think of that we need to catch up on."
"Our taxes?"
"Cute." He should have expected some sort of smart remark from her. "No. Something a lot more important than that."
"That's true. There is something more important." She moved to pull a fork out of a drawer. "We have a big pile of clothes in the bathroom that need to get washed. Those sheets really need to..."
"Margaret," he cut her off. "You're getting closer and closer to taking a shower alone again."
She turned her head to him. "I highly doubt that."
"Oh? What makes you so sure about that?" He jumped up on the counter and popped a piece of potato in his mouth.
"I just am." Her voice was full of confidence. "Stop eating those." She slapped his hand.
"I'm starving."
"You have to starve a little longer. Would you mind bringing the laundry out? I'm going to grab the mail before it starts raining again."
Hawkeye made a face, why did they have to do laundry now? "On one condition."
"And what would that be?"
"I want you to kiss me."
Margaret smiled at him. "What have we been doing all morning?"
"No." He slid off the counter. "I want a real kiss." One of those passionate, I need you now, take me before I burst into flames kind of kisses. The kind he got when she was begging him to pull down his pants.
"I can't dip you," she grinned.
He put his arms around her waist. "Just one good kiss."
"One of your kisses and we won't get to the steak."
"That's okay too."
"No," she smiled. "Just a moment ago you were telling me you were starving."
"Come on, one good kiss."
"It's going to start raining and then our mail will be all wet."
"That's why we have a mailbox." Hawkeye wouldn't let her go.
Margaret gave him a quick peck on the lips. "There, now you can let me go."
"I don't think so. I've had a better kiss from a dog."
"Well I'd like to know how you kiss a dog." She raised an eyebrow.
Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "You're not going to kiss me, are you?"
"Not like you want. We'll end up on this floor with burnt food and wet mail." Margaret pulled his head down and gave him a kiss to hold him over. She let his tongue into her mouth, but then pulled away while she still had the resistance. "Don't forget the sheets." She was already heading to the front door.
Bill, bill, letter from her sister, bill, notice, unmarked envelope addressed to resident, magazine, magazine, magazine. Margaret was shuffling through the mail as she walked through the house. There were a couple of letters on the bottom. Probably just the same old thing. She set them down on the table in the hallway when he called out to her.
"No, those can go on cold!" She shouted down the stairs to him. Margaret picked up the pile of mail again and continued thumbing through it.
She tossed the magazines back on the table and then examined the envelopes the bills came in. Why did they always seem to come at the same time? It always served to drain their bank account just when she felt like they were doing pretty good financially. The bills could wait for Monday when Hawkeye could take care of it.
Margaret thought twice about opening the letter from her sister, but she had just talked to her two days ago. Her sister had a bad habit of calling right after she put a letter in the mail and telling Margaret all about it before it got there. Upon deciding she knew what was in the letter she tossed it to the side along with the bills and junk mail.
There was one letter that she had neglected to take notice of earlier. It was in a crisp, white envelope, curiously addressed in a fancy calligraphy style type writing. To Dr. and Mrs. Benjamin Pierce. Oddly enough, there was no return address.
"Is it all soaked?" He had come up from the basement.
She leafed through the pile. "Just a few sprinkles worth." Although those clouds had looked pretty threatening.
"Thank goodness," he said in an exaggerated tone and wiped his brow.
Margaret grinned. "That pan should be just about ready for those potatoes."
"You want me to do those too?"
"What?"
"I get to start the laundry and finish cooking lunch while you grabbed the mail. That doesn't sound fair to me." He picked up the pile she had sat down. "Why do we have so much?"
"Who knows." Margaret walked toward the kitchen placing the letters on the table so she could put the potatoes in the pan.
Hawkeye stood in the hallway for a moment flipping through the mail. He was less then enthused with all the bills, but the magazines caught his eye. "Hey honey, look at this." He walked into the kitchen and saw her sitting at the small table in the breakfast nook.
"Hmm?" She looked up from the card she held in her hand.
"Look." He sat down, but noticed she wasn't paying any attention to him. Whatever was in that card had captivated her. "What do you have there?"
"Oh um," she had momentarily lost her train of thought. "It's uh..." Margaret was hesitant to share it with him. "It's from the O'Reillys."
"Oh." He pretended not to care. He flipped through the magazine trying not to focus on what she had in her hand.
"Do you want to read it?"
"No." He didn't look up.
Well, so far it had gone better then she had anticipated it would. Although, he had that familiar gleam in his eye. "What did you want to show me?"
He had been sitting there, starring blankly at the open magazine. "Oh uh..." He stood up. "It was nothing."
"Are you sure?" She placed the card on the table close to the center so he could see it if he looked.
"Yeah."
Margaret didn't like how his mood changed so quickly, but she couldn't change that now. "I think you should read it."
"I don't want to read it." His voice was calm, but he still wasn't looking at her.
"Honey, I think you should."
He glanced over his shoulder. "I don't need to."
"I think you do this time."
The solemn look on her face sent him mixed emotions. In past situations she had been aggressive, making no hesitation in fighting him, but this time...it almost worried him. "I don't want to know," he said in a firm tone.
Margaret sighed. The needed to talk about it. This affected the both of them. "It's an invitation," she said, picking it up.
His body tensed. Not another one, begging them to come to some damn reunion, just so they could all get drunk and laugh at the war. "They can all go to hell for all I care."
"You don't mean that." Margaret hated when he got this way. Every time there was a letter from anyone of them she had to fight with him just to read it. He refused to reply to a single one so that left her writing letters for the two of them.
"Yes I do." Why would he want to see an invitation? He could guess what it was and exactly how it was going to turn out. He didn't need that and it made him mad that she would even consider such a thing knowing how he felt."There's a note in here addressed only to you."He looked up at her. "No."
Margaret placed the letter in front of him and stood up to get back to cooking the meal. "Radar's getting married."
Why did she have to say that? He would have been better off not knowing what was going on. This was only going to make him feel guilty when he didn't show up. "We're not going."
Margaret had known that was coming. "Please, read the note."
"I don't want to read that damn note!"
The only thing that concerned her about going to the wedding was the attention they would attract. They hadn't attended a single affair in over two years. And then there was her husband...
"I think we should go." She wasn't going to fight with him on this. Margaret was determined to remain calm.
