Busted

Chapter 4

1

Over the next 12 hours, Margaret was way too busy to think about anything besides the crush of wounded that made its way into the 4077th. Near the end of the deluge, she finally gathered up enough courage to talk to Hawkeye.

"Hawkeye?"

"Mmmm?" Hawkeye acknowledged Margaret, but he really had his mind on finding the piece of shrapnel he knew was in this kid's gut somewhere. "What'cha need, Major?"

"Uh, well, I was wondering..." Margaret was unusually shy all of a sudden, then she pulled herself together. "I was wondering if I could speak to you." Hawkeye looked up at her as he pulled out the offending piece of metal he'd been looking for, and though Margaret couldn't see it because of the mask, his eyes gave away the fact that he was smiling.

"I do believe, Miz Margaret, that you are speaking to me." Hawkeye drawled in his best Southern accent.

Margaret sighed. "That's not what I meant, Doctor. I meant-" She lowered her voice so only the two of them could hear- "in private."

Hawkeye could see that Margaret was serious, so he changed his demeanor, and lowered his voice to match hers. "I'm sorry, Margaret. Of course, we can talk. Just find me after this marathon meatball mess. If I'm still alive, that is." Margaret could see that smile again. She smiled too. She needed to get this off of her mind.

Four hours later, the OR session was over. Margaret was exhausted. She was looking forward to collapsing in her bed for an extended period of time. She had just reached the door of her tent when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Margaret? You said you wanted to talk to me, right?" Margaret turned around to see Hawkeye standing next to her. She was touched that he was willing to put aside the rest he so desperately needed to come to see her.

"Hawkeye, you're exhausted. It can wait until we're both well rested."

"Are you sure, Margaret, 'cause I can come in-" He tried to stifle a yawn.

"Captain, go to bed. We'll figure something out."

"Okay. Sweet dreams, Margaret." He smiled at the Major.

"Good Night, Hawkeye."

Margaret awoke five hours later to a darkened tent. She fumbled for the light and looked at the clock. Ten o'clock. She wondered what Hawkeye was doing. Probably still sleeping. She laid back down and stared at the ceiling. Hawkeye. Ben. That seemed to be all she could think about lately. Why, she wasn't really sure. She'd tried to ignore the feelings that were inside. Since they had been stranded while going to the 8063rd, Margaret had seen Hawkeye in a new light. Sure, he was stubborn, unmilitary, and had many other imperfections, but somehow, she could see past them now. Maybe she was growing up a little, maturing. At any rate, she knew she had to let Hawkeye know how she felt. She couldn't hide it anymore. A knock at the door startled her.

"Margaret?"

She knew who it was. She'd know that voice anywhere, even if she was half dead. Still, she felt the need to ask. "Who is it?"

"It's Hawkeye. Is it okay to come in?"

"Yeah. Come in." The door opened and Hawkeye entered. Margaret was suddenly very nervous. "Please, sit down. Would you like a drink?" She quickly busied herself with a chair.

"Sure. A drink would be nice."

"Hawkeye, how did you know that I was awake?" She said as she handed him his drink.

"I seen the light on in your tent, and assumed that you were up. I don't think that Major Houlihan sleeps with a night light." He smiled that killer smile.

"No, you're right, I don't." They both sat in silence for a while, just sipping their drinks.

"Margaret, don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think you invited me to your tent at this late hour for drinks and comfortable silence. Am I right?"

Margaret sighed. Hawkeye could always see right through her.

"You're right, Hawkeye. Actually, I have something very important to tell you." She took a deep breath, and even though she didn't think she could do it, she pressed on.

"Ben, I love you."