Margaret drew back the dark curtains that covered the wide bay window and looked out upon the dreary day that beheld them. Outside the sky was dark and threatening, quite opposite of the day before. The few trees that scattered the landscape blew merciless in the fierce winds and pounding rain. For everything seeming so wonderful and bright in her mind sight, the day in actuality was cold and dreary. She could hear the sound of thunder in the far distance. Margaret folded her arms, gripping them with her hands, and shuddered at the sound. Civilian life had not cured her of her fear of loud noises.
Margaret walked back to the bedroom in a desperate search for Hawkeye. She stopped before entering the room; from the doorway she could see that the bed was empty. Margaret walked slowly into the bedroom to find he was indeed there, leaning up against the windowpane fully dressed. He too was watching the pouring rain outside.
Silently she made her way over to where he was standing. Moving to stand behind him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her face against his back. He didn't acknowledge her presence; he just stood there with his arms folded, looking out the window.
"Are you tired?" She asked him softly as she ran a hand up and down his arm. Hawkeye turned his head then, looking at her over his shoulder. He had been so lost in thought that he had hardly noticed her at all.
"A little." He muttered as he turned his attention back to the window. Margaret planted a kiss between his shoulder blades.
Noticing his reluctance and disinterest she asked, "Is everything alright? You're being awfully quiet." She had thought that after spending their first night together he might be more roguish.
Hawkeye turned around, and in doing so Margaret was forced to let go of him. He gave her a solemn look before moving away and starting to pick up his dirty clothes off the floor. Margaret eyed him carefully as his back was turned to her; his eyes weren't as playful and inviting as they had been the day before. What had happened to the passionate man she had been with last night? She wasn't sure if he was just tired or annoyed.
Margaret took a seat on the end of the bed and watched him as he packed his bag. After a moment or so he lifted his head and looked around the room in search of his missing belt. She had tossed somewhere on the floor, but he didn't have any recollection of where. Margaret found it on the other side of the bed and handed it to him. As he set the bag on the bed she surprised him by wrapping her arms around him and hugging him warmly. Hawkeye stood there ridged with his arms open.
"What are you doing?" He asked her gruffly and lowly as her arms moved up his back. Margaret started kissing his neck and moved her hands around to his chest. Slowly her hands moved down to his pants. As soon as she had popped the button and started working his zipper Hawkeye grabbed her hands and pushed them against her stomach. "No." He said abruptly. He took a few steps away from her and fixed his pants. Hawkeye picked up his bag. "I'm going to check out," he said without looking at her. "I'll meet you at the car." And with that he quickly left the room.
Margaret stood there flabbergasted. All she had done was suggest that they make love one more time before they left. She hadn't expected for him to turn her down so fast or so ferociously. A small pang of anger ran through Margaret as she dressed and packed her bag. He hadn't even kissed her good morning, or said it for that matter. Had he lied to her when he said he loved her? Had she just been another one-night thing for him?
Margaret made sure she had all her belongings and headed outside. He was waiting out front with the car when she walked out the door. When she approached him he looked up from his map and held out his hand for her bag. Margaret handed it to him and walked around and got in on the passenger's side. Hawkeye put her bag in the trunk and then got into the driver's seat. With out a word he revved the engine and they pulled out of the parking lot.
They rode in silence for a while, neither willing to look at the other. After half an hour Margaret looked at him. With her jaw clenched slightly and a touch of anger in her voice she said, "What's the matter with you?"
Hawkeye turned his head and looked at her with confusion. "What?" He asked as if he didn't know what she was talking about. "The matter with me?"
"Back there." She pointed behind them. "What the hell was that all about?" Margaret wanted a hell of a good explanation.
Hawkeye knew what she was referring to. She was mad that he had turned her down and rejected her advances. And even more so, that he had acted so cruelly to her with for apparent reason. Hawkeye gave her a small smile to try and calm her anger. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings. It was just that we were already running late and wanted to get going."
Margaret eyed him for a moment. She could understand that, she guessed. "If you wanted to go you just had to say so." That still didn't explain why he had been so cold.
"I'm sorry. I guess I was just a little tense. I don't like to get of schedule," he told her sympathetically. Hawkeye hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.
"I understand," she told him with a nod. Then thinking back she said, "You did tell me you wanted to get going earlier." Hawkeye looked at her and smiled. He squeezed her leg warmly. Margaret scooted against him, inviting him to put an arm around her. Hawkeye took a deep breath as he slid an arm casually around her shoulders.
He gripped the steering wheel tighter as he drove. Hawkeye knew he shouldn't have been mad, but he was. He was a man torn between two paths. Either he followed his heart and devoted himself and his emotions to Margaret completely or saved her by the only means he knew. He hadn't anticipating this when he had told her he loved her.
Of course Hawkeye wanted to go with his first choice, he wanted nothing more than to put down his guard and give himself to her freely. If he had been more honest with himself, they probably would have still been back at the hotel making love.
In real life however, not all fairy tales come true. To protect the people you love you have to make certain sacrifices, no matter how great the cost. Margaret meant everything to Hawkeye, whether she chose to believe it or not in the end. The answer was probably not, what woman would want a man like him, a lunatic. Hopefully one day she would understand.
I don't what's wrong with me. I don't know why I can't be honest with myself. We spent the entire night making love. It was indescribable, everything I've always thought it would be. I'm afraid of myself though. I'm afraid to look her in the eye.
I was wrong of me to think that this could work. I love her with my whole heart, but I'm not the man she deserves to be with. I'm being selfish by pulling her along like this when I know she deserves much, much more.
I could never be mad at her for what happened this morning. It was bound to happen. I guess I'm angrier with myself more than anything else. How in the world am I going to tell her? How will she ever understand?
Hawkeye sat ridged and stiff in his seat as he drove. Margaret had fallen asleep against him about thirty minutes ago. That wasn't anything to be uncomfortable about; it was the way she was laying. Her head was resting on his lap and it was causing him to feel immensely uneasy.
We don't agree on anything and we hardly seem to have anything in common. She's my perfect opposite. I think it is because of that any chemistry between us does not seem plausible.
However, making love together is something we do very well. I am not ashamed to say I thoroughly enjoyed doing it. This morning however, I felt like scum. I promised myself that I wouldn't let my emotions get the best of me. I feel like I took advantage of her, as if I've used her for my own release. I'm not mad at Margaret for seeing what she saw, she was probably curious even before we became involved. She must have noticed my unwillingness to take off my shirt.
I guess what I'm mad at the most, or rather the person I'm mad at the most is me. I knew deep down that knew this would happen. Of course we were going to end up having sex, of course she was going to see me naked. Why wasn't I strong enough to hold her off and keep my distance?
These questions continued to run over and over through Hawkeye's head as he drove. Margaret had snuggled closer to him and had since buried her face further into his lap. He moved uncomfortably in his seat, he was finding her presence there very unsettling. Just her touching him made him feel guilty.
Hawkeye didn't want them to get any closer if they already were. Kissing and acting like everything was all right wasn't going to help anything in the end. Every time that they made love it was just going to push the knife in further and further into his chest. Hawkeye knew that he needed to be the one to draw the line. He couldn't continue to take advantage of her.
Margaret was very surprised when she woke up, although not totally objective. The storm outside was still blowing outside, but she felt very safe being so close to him. Waking up next to Hawkeye that morning had been wonderful, she'd never known being in bed with a man could feel so fulfilling. She thought that it was a shame that she had never noticed the way the hair on the back his neck curled at the ends or how his bangs we actually quite long.
His skin tone was just the right shade of tan and his eyes were a dazzling shade of blue. Margaret was right in assuming that he had toned up over the last year. His shoulders and arms were quite muscular along as were his pecks and a few other unmentionable places. She yawned and stretched before sitting up. Between last night and her afternoon nap, it was evident that he had very muscular thighs.
Margaret sat up and wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his neck. "What time is it?" She asked sleepily.
Hawkeye looked at his watch. "Quarter past eleven."
"There's just something about riding in a car that makes me want to sleep." Margaret yawned again. "Although, today I think you deserved most of the credit." She smiled to herself and rubbed her face against his shirt. Hawkeye stiffened when she did that, although he probably couldn't have been any more ridged. Margaret picked nuzzled his neck and jaw. "You know something, I have an idea." She unbuttoned a few more shirt buttons to expose his chest a little bit. "Why don't we stop somewhere for a day or two and just spend some time alone together? I'm not exactly sure what we're going to do when we get home just yet."
"Yeah….." Hawkeye turned his head as a questioned expression spread across his face. What were they going to do when they got home?
"But we'll worry about that when the time comes." She ran a hand across his unshaven jaw. "I like it just being us right now." She kissed his cheek.
Hawkeye arched his back slightly when he felt a hand move down and lift the hem of his shirt. She raked the skin down there lightly with her nails before caressing his lower back lightly. Her fingers moved lower as she started to trace the edge of his pants and then further down to finger the elastic of his boxers. "Margaret please, not now!" He burst out suddenly with a jerk.
Margaret with drew her hand and moved away from him as if she had been burned. His tone was bitter and sharp. "I'm sorry!" She told exclaimed and moved over to the other side of the car.
Margaret sat silently in the passenger side seat. She was leaning against the door with her forehead resting against the window. Outside it was raining just as hard as it had before, if not harder. She turned her head and glanced at him. He had his face resting in the palm of his hand. His hair was messed up and tangled, causing him to look distraught and agitated. A flash of lightening exposed the anguish written across his face.
Another bolt of lightening illuminated the sky once more, but this time it was closer and trailed by a loud boom of thunder. Margaret jumped a foot in the air as the crash sounded. She covered her head with her arms. Hawkeye looked over at her and noticed that she was trembling. He knew she was terrified of loud noises. This one had even startled him.
"Come here." Hawkeye said softly to her. He sat up strait and put a hand on her back, encouraging her to move into his open arm.
Margaret sat there, unmoving. She wasn't sure whether to go or not. He wasn't acting like his normal self. She wasn't sure who this man was; he certainly wasn't the same guy with whom she had taken comfort in last night. With another nerve-racking blast Margaret flung herself into his arm and buried her face in his shirt. She didn't feel proud; he obviously didn't want to be touching her, but Margaret felt helpless. The roaring thunder made her merciless.
The two of them sat like that for a while, neither saying anything. Margaret had her legs curled up on the seat and was huddling against him. They were both looking forward out the windshield, even though the pounding rain had made it nearly impossible to see anything. With each rumble of thunder Margaret clung tighter to him. Hawkeye didn't say anything as she dug her nails into his skin with each crack. And then again, he didn't whisper calming endearments or kiss her hair either.
Eventually after some time Hawkeye pulled into a small roadside restaurant so they could rest and eat dinner. They remained quiet through out most of the meal. Neither talked very much, but they made small conversation and had a tolerable time considering.
Afterwards they found themselves sitting silent and motionless in the car again. Margaret was too tired to fight with him; she was feeling dejected enough as it was. Listening to him growl and reject her was tiring enough, she didn't need any more of it. If he was going to ignore her and refuse to acknowledge what was happening between them, then she didn't want to particularly pay attention to him either.
Hawkeye would look at her from time to time and wonder what she was thinking. She was just sitting there with her arms crossed, looking blankly out the window. It was the first time he'd ever seen her like that, solemn and almost dreary. Hawkeye sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He rubbed his face and scratched the back of his neck with a yawn. "You're getting tired." Margaret said out of nowhere, she didn't even bother to look at him when she said it.
"I'm fine." He told her as he continued to drive.
"Why can't you just admit you're tired and stop for the night?" Her voice gave a little hint of agitation.
"Because I'm not," he said louder. He wasn't ready to stop, especially when she was nagging him.
"Fine, have it your way." She wasn't going to argue with him. Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the window. This was really going to be a long trip.
About an hour later Margaret had fallen fast asleep. They were back to being on opposite sides of the car again, which for some reason that he didn't understand, sort of made him feel a little deflated. Hawkeye looked at his watch, it was past midnight. He looked over at her and watched for a few moments. They had both had enough for one day; she at least deserved to sleep in real bed.
Hawkeye checked into the next hotel they came across. Like the night before, he got one room for them to share. Even if they preferred to sleep alone, neither had the money to pay for two hotel rooms. He walked back out to the car to find she was still sleeping peacefully. Then without waking her, he opened the passenger side door and collected her into his arms. Hawkeye then proceeded to carry her up to the room. After walking up three flights of stairs and fumbling with the room key, he finally got the door open. Without turning on a light he made his way through the living area and into the bedroom.
Without making a sound and without waking her, Hawkeye laid her on the bed. She never moved and she never gave any indignation that she knew what was going on. He sat there for a moment beside her, wondering what to do next. After a few moments he decided to do only what he could. He removed her shoes and socks and set them on the floor. Then very carefully, he took off her jacket and laid it over a chair.
Hawkeye went downstairs and got their luggage and set it by the door. Subsequently doing so he stood in the middle of the bedroom, pondering what to do next. After scratching his head for a few moments he decided to go with the most logical thing that came to mind. He unbuttoned his over shirt and took it off so he was left in a t-shirt and then removed his shoes. Hawkeye took off his watch and belt and set them on the dresser.
Very quietly he eased himself onto the bed. He scooted closer to her so they were lying parallel and laid down with his head resting on his arm. They were lying about two feet apart with their bodies facing once another. He could make out her face in the darkness. Her full lips, her round eyes, her soft skin; it all made him want to reach out and touch her, just to kiss her once. Despite all the emotions and feelings he was having, he found himself aching to hold her like he had done the night before.
If she left him, Hawkeye knew he would never be able to bear it. The past year had been something of a living hell to him. It was his constant thought of her that kept him going till this very moment. He loved her more than anything, he always would; no matter what happened tomorrow.
Margaret awoke feeling very bewildered and confused. One moment she had been looking out the car window, watching the scenery pass by, and the next she was laying in a strange bed, in a room she had never seen before. It was then that the understood what must have happened. However, something had happened that Margaret had not been expecting. Sleeping peacefully with his head on her shoulder was the last person she had been expecting to find. She smiled and closed her eyes, running her fingers through his silky hair. Margaret didn't know what had brought it on, but she was glad regardless. Hawkeye had his arm wrapped around her waist and was holding her tightly.
She thought it was odd that they were still fully clothed, clad in jeans and shirts. They were even lying above the covers on the comforter. None of that really mattered though she decided, she was just glad they were together. After a few minutes she felt him begin to stir. His hand moved up her side and began to caress her rib cage.
Her hand moved to the back of his head. "Hawkeye?" She asked softly, she was very perplexed by what was happening.
He didn't say anything; he only emitted a soft moan against her skin. It was evident that he wasn't fully conscious; this was a little too much like kissing, and he would never have gone for that.
"Ben?" She tried to wake him again when he started kissing her lower neck. She tried to push him away and called out his name again, this time louder. Suddenly he stopped and lay just as still as she. Margaret could feel his hot breath on her neck.
The next thing she knew they were looking at each other with wide expressions on their faces. He looked nearly scared to death. "I'm sorry," he muttered apologetically and quickly moved off her. He sat up and swung his feet over the side of the bed. Margaret watched him for a second; he looked very distraught and ashamed.
Margaret found herself becoming angry at his embarrassment and the distance he had put between them. He shouldn't have been sorry, not if he really loved her. Making love should have been something they didn't have to discuss. He was being stubborn and very cold hearted towards her. "Why are you sorry?" She demanded all of a sudden. Hawkeye didn't look at her; he just stood up and walked around the bed. "Answer me!" She shouted.
He glanced at her then. His eyes studied her for a moment, reading the anger and frustration on her face. Then very calmly he said. "Do you want the shower first?"
Margaret's eyes lit up. How dare he! She clenched her fists; if he came near her she was going to smack him. "You bastard." Her voice was very low and cool through her clenched teeth. Hawkeye didn't say anything; he just continued to stare at her.
"What?" He finally asked. "What did I do?"
Margaret felt her temper hit the mark. "How dare you!" She exclaimed. Margaret got out of bed. She was tired of his bull. After two days she had had enough.
"How dare I what?" He asked loudly with his hands at his sides.
"And I thought I knew you." She hissed with narrowed eyes. "I thought you loved me!" She yelled franticly and aggressively. "But now I come to find it was just some sick game of yours. You haven't changed at all. You're still a drunken, sex addicted, self-obsessed, self abusing, prick!" Margaret started gathering her things. "You only care about your own selfish pleasures, you're too dense to care about other people's feelings!"
"Now just a minute….." He started to say, but Margaret cut him to the quick.
"Is that all I was to you! A quick lay to make you feel more like a man?" She spat curtly. Margaret didn't even wait for a reply. "You son of a bitch." Her voice was icy. Margaret started to put on her socks and shoes.
Hawkeye ran both hands through his hair and slightly growled. "That's not true!" He understood that she was mad, but she being extremely unfair about it.
"The hell it isn't!"
"It's not!"
"You men are all alike. I was stupid to think you were any better than the rest of them!"
"Don't patronize me!" He yelled. "I'm nothing like Donald or Frank!"
"You're just as bad!" She screamed. Then suddenly her voice fell as tears streamed down her cheeks. "I really loved you, I did. And I thought you loved me just as much, but I guess I was wrong." She started to break down.
Hawkeye didn't move, he stood frozen in place as he watched her cry. Even if he tried, she would have never have let him touch her. All he could do was stand there. After a moment she compiled herself and wiped her eyes.
"Where are you going?" He demanded when she put on her jacket and picked up her suitcase.
"I'm going to take a bus back to Boston." She said solemnly as she started to make for the door.
"You can't!" He yelled from behind her.
Margaret set her bag down and turned around to face him. "Why!" She yelled even louder. "I'll be damned if I'm going to sit there and let you abuse me for two weeks."
Hawkeye's blood boiled when she said that. "I never laid a hand on you. You know I would never hurt you!" It made him sick that she would honestly think that.
"But you did!" She cried. "You did when you refused to talk to me and when you refused to touch me!" Then very sturdily she said. "I'd have preferred any beating to that." There was so much anger and disgust in her voice, it made his stomach hurt.
When he didn't say anything she turned around and picked up her bag. She was just about to walk out the door when a strong hand grabbed her arm and pulled her backwards. Margaret turned her head and looked at him with astonishment, he had a steely grip on her upper arm that was actually starting to hurt. She was surprised when she looked into his virtually black, piercing eyes. It scared her a little bit, she had never seen him like that before.
He could tell he was hurting her and immediately let her go. Hawkeye moved so he was standing in front of the door. "I'm not going to let you leave." He said in a very deep, very husky, sounding voice.
"Pierce, get out of my way."
"No."
"I'm leaving. Move!" She said loudly.
"No!" He said even louder.
"If you don't….." She started to warn him.
He cut her off before she could finish. Hawkeye closed the space between them with one step and moved his hands to her face. Before she knew what was happening he was kissing her most passionately. Margaret couldn't react, she didn't know how. It was so unexpected, she just stood there. She could feel so much in the kiss; need, desire, agony, pain. He was kissing her hard, pressing his lips against hers in desperation.
When he finally stopped he didn't let her go. He kept his face close to hers. "I love you." He said weakly and softly. "I need you." His voice was beginning to break. Margaret could feel him holding onto her desperately. When she didn't say anything, he kissed her again and again. "I'm sorry….. I'm sorry….. I'm sorry….." He murmured over and over against her lips.
Margaret didn't know what to do, she was flabbergasted. He was trembling in her arms. "How can I believe you?" She wanted to believe him, she really did. "When even you're afraid to touch me."
"I love you." He kissed her forehead gently as he closed his eyes. "I love you so much. I didn't mean to push you away, hurting you is the last thing I wanted to do." Hawkeye really meant that. "I guess I was just afraid." He whispered against her forehead.
Margaret dropped her bag and put her arms around him. She didn't want to leave him, but she had been prepared to do so if he didn't really love her. His open confession and vulnerability had told her that there really was something wrong, something that was preventing him from being Hawkeye; the loving, caring, sensitive man she used to know.
"Afraid of what?" She didn't understand what he was saying. He had nothing to be afraid of.
Hawkeye didn't say anything. He stood there with his cheek resting on her forehead. She deserved to know everything, it was no use trying to hide it any longer. If she left, she left. Either way he had no choice. If he didn't tell her she would leave anyway.
"I'm afraid….." He started saying. "I'm afraid of losing you." He spoke at a monotone level, all the aggressiveness and all the shame had left his voice.
Margaret lifted her head and forced him to look at her. His eyes were swollen and puffy, there was a lost expression spread across his face. He wasn't making any sense. Was he honestly saying that his distance and fragility was all due to his fear of losing her? If anything, all those things were sure to drive her away, and that obviously wasn't what he wanted. "I don't understand." She told to him.
Hawkeye looked away when said that. "You shouldn't be here with me," he said lowly.
"But I thought you just said….."
"Want and place are two entirely separate things." He moved out of her arms. Margaret watched as he walked over to the window. It was still blustery outside.
Margaret had no idea what he was talking out. She joined him beside the window. "There isn't any place I'd rather be." She told him solemnly. Margaret was starting to become a little scared, he was acting almost schizoid. His moods and attitudes were changing to quickly.
Hawkeye didn't look at her. He turned his back to her and started walking in the opposite direction. "It doesn't matter if you want to be here of not." He said.
"What do you mean, if I want to be here or not?"
He turned his head and looked at her with a mournful face. "I don't deserve you." He said barely above a whisper. Hawkeye sat down on the coffee table in the middle of the room. Her buried his face in his hands.
"Oh, Hawkeye." Margaret stood up and went to him. "If anything, I don't deserve you." She pulled his hands away from his face so she could see his eyes.
"No…..no…..no….." He repeatedly shook his head with his eyes clenched shut.
"I'm the one who doesn't deserve to be with you." She told him again. "You need to understand that."
"No!" He stood up suddenly. Franticly he pulled off his T-shirt. "Don't you see this?" He pulled down the waist of his pants so she could see his scar.
"Because of your scar?" She asked. "Honey, I don't care about that." She was curious of course, but if he didn't want to tell her than she wasn't going to push him.
"I don't deserve you." He muttered again as he walked into the bedroom.
"Hawkeye….." She called after him as she followed.
"I'm not the same man you knew in Korea." He said quickly, his back was still to her. "That joke of a doctor is gone, he's never coming back." Her heart broke at his confession. "I'm a terrible person Margaret." His chin dropped against his chest.
She watched him for a moment, he looked absolutely dreadful. "I'm sure things look like that now, but if you just give it time….."
"You don't understand!" He cried, suddenly looking at her.
"Why? Why don't I understand?" He was breathing hard, she could tell he was trying not to break down. When he didn't answer she asked again. "Pierce!"
"Because!" He yelled back.
"Because why!" He was getting upset, that was good. The more excited she got him, the more willingly he would tell her.
"Because…..because….." He couldn't say it.
"Because why!" She yelled louder.
Finally something snapped and he lost it. "Because I deserved it!" He yelled. The room fell silent and they looked at each other. Hawkeye's eyes were fluttering, there were unshed tears threatening to fall. His lips started to quiver, as did his hands. "I deserved it." He whispered in a much weaker tone. That look was breaking her heart; she'd never seen anything so sad in her life. He was just standing there, staring at her. She watched as he slowly sank to floor at the foot of the bed. He buried his face in his hands. "It's all my fault." He whispered, his voice started to trail. "It's all my fault."
Margaret sat down beside him and pulled him onto her lap. He was crying very quietly, streams of tears running down his face. Hawkeye hugged her to him and buried his face in her chest, clinging to her like a small child would his mother. She rubbed his back soothingly as she let a cheek come to rest on the top of his head. He was shaking silently in her arms, not from the crying, but from sheer exhaustion and guilt.
After a while he started to calm down. He had stopped crying and was just lying peacefully in her arms. Quick flashes of painful memories were running through his mind, images of things he would have been more than happy to forget. Hawkeye's eyes started to droop. She was scratching the back of his neck in a most soothing way. He was so tired of fighting; all he wanted to do was forget everything and just lull in her arms.
"Tell me what happened after I left for the 8063rd. I've always wondered how you guys parted ways." They were lying on the bed now facing one another. Hawkeye was looking off into space as she fingered his collarbone. Margaret figured it was an innocent enough question; it would be good to get him talking about something easy.
He looked at her then, looking as if he had just realized she was in the same room. "After who left?"
"Me. What happened to you? How did you get home?" She restated for him.
"What happened….." He was trying to think of that day again. It was hard to forget how it hurt when they all said goodbye and how surreal everything had seemed when he walked into his first American airport. "Well, we all said goodbye and parted ways. BJ and I were the last ones to leave. I'm not sure how he got to his plane, I'm guessing he rode that motorcycle."
"How about you?"
"I took a chopper. I met a transport plane at an airfield about thirty minutes south," he reminisced. "It was the longest seventeen hours of my life." Hawkeye was talking about the plane ride home. "I kept thinking about the past three years and everything that we went through. I thought about BJ and Colonel Potter. Charles, Klinger, Radar and Trapper." He gave a small laugh. "I even thought about Frank." Margaret chuckled softly as well. "But most of all, I thought about you. I wanted to tell you before you left that I loved you, but after that kiss, I couldn't bring myself to say it."
Margaret didn't say anything to that. She smiled slightly to herself and moved closer to him, touching her forehead to his. "And then what?"
"I can't describe what happened when I got off that plane." The emotions had been overwhelming. Margaret nodded, she understood how he felt. "And when I saw my father standing there, with that look in his eyes….." He stopped for a moment as the memories washed over him. Seeing his father again was indescribable. "The next thing I knew we were hugging, I don't even remember him walking over to me." He told her.
Margaret had to keep him talking if she wanted to get to the root of his enigma. "What happened next?" She urged him on.
"Well," he began. "We went home." He said merely and justly.
"That must have been nice." Margaret had heard him speak of Crabapple Cove with such exuberance during the war; every other word out of his mouth had expressed his eagerness to go home. She would have thought he would have been slightly more excited to talk about his first moments home.
"Yeah, in a way I suppose it was." He sighed.
"Why is that?"
"There were a bunch of reasons. We drove home that night to a yard full of people. I had been looking forward to climbing the stairs to my old room and just falling asleep, but they had other plans. Everyone from town was there, all our family and all our friends. I was mobbed as soon as I got out of the car."
"Was it a nice party?" Margaret asked him.
"It was okay. I would have preferred not to have had it though." He shrugged his shoulders. After a long trip, a party wasn't something he had wanted.
"Why is that?"
"In the beginning I felt very trapped. Between the crowds of people touching me and hugging me, I could feel that familiar pain in my chest starting to build."
"Your claustrophobia." Margaret confirmed. She had wondered how he had faired on the plane trip home. Perhaps that's why he drove to California.
"Yes." He said. "And when I wasn't being horded with questions or kissed or prodded, I felt like the loneliest man on the earth. There I was, standing against a wall in the hallway, watching as strange faces passed me by. I couldn't place a single one, they all looked the same to me." Margaret hugged him tighter, she wished she could have been there with him, she knew what it was like, the same thing had happened to her. "Everyone wanted to know about Tommy and how he died. They wanted to know how many men I'd seen die and if I'd been lucky enough to knock one or two 'Reds' off myself." Hawkeye's voice was very cold and sharp, disgust coated every syllable as he spoke. "I couldn't speak, I knew if I did I wouldn't have stopped until I had resorted each and every one of them to their knees. The people I had once knew and loved, suddenly felt like strangers." He was silent for a moment. "I ended up sleeping on the floor that night. When I woke up the next morning I had no idea where I was. For some silly reason I had expected to wake up in the Swamp."
"It's not silly darling." Margaret said, kissing his forehead. "I think we all felt like that when we got home." She touched that back of his neck.
"I slept on the floor the entire week." Hawkeye said as he stared off into space again. "The bed was just too soft." It was silly really, preferring a hard little cot to a nice big bed.
Margaret decided to be brave and take a chance. "But that's not why you haven't been sleeping."
Hawkeye looked her in the eye for the first time that afternoon. "No." She felt herself breathe a sigh of relief. "Up until two days ago, I hadn't been able to sleep an entire night through."
Margaret smiled lovingly at his confession. "Me neither darling, me neither." She held him closer.
Hawkeye placed a hand on her hip when she moved slightly closer to him. "That first morning back though, that was probably the most I've slept without you. I didn't fall asleep until three and didn't wake up until six o'clock the next evening. I stayed in the shower for an eternity before getting out. The hardest part though, was getting dressed," he told her. "During the war I just had to find a clean shirt and put it on. Suddenly I had a whole chest of drawers. It was overwhelming."
"I know what you mean." Margaret nodded. "I had the same trouble, seeing as how I was no longer in the Army. It was hard to be honest." Her expression dropped then.
Hawkeye sighed. "Being home wasn't everything I had hoped it would be. I suddenly felt like an outsider in my own town. Everywhere I'd go, people would stare and whisper. They didn't think I heard them, but I did."
"What did they say?" She was curious. He'd always talked about them being such a nice group of people.
"How I'd changed. Something about having been brainwashed and losing my mind. I guess in a way I did."
"Oh no." He was referring to his little episode with the baby. "No honey, that wasn't your fault. There's nothing wrong with you."
"Yes there is."
"No, don't say that."
"Margaret you don't understand." He rolled onto back. "You couldn't possibly know."
Margaret wished he wouldn't do that. He knew she couldn't read his mind. "Then why don't you enlighten me." She told him. Hawkeye didn't say anything, he just lay there looking up at the ceiling. "Pierce, why do you think I'm the enemy?" She demanded as she moved away from him. "You think that I'm here to judge you, when all I want is to be closer to you." Margaret sat on the edge of the bed. "I'll love you for as long as I live, but if you can't be honest and open with me, then I can't be in a relationship with you."
Hawkeye looked at her and could tell she was hurting just as much he was. It wasn't fair for him to hurt her anymore than he already had. In fact, he felt terrible that she had to threaten to leave for him to finally make up his mind. All he had to do now was tell her. Hawkeye sat up and moved so he was sitting behind her. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. "You're right." He said. "I should be able to tell you anything."
"You should." She was still talking in her 'Major Houlihan' ensemble.
"I'm not a good person Margaret. I don't even know why you bother with me."
She turned so she was facing him. "I bother with you because I love you."
Hawkeye lowered his eyes and looked at the bedspread. "Even if I've done something unforgivable?" He was lost in his own thoughts.
"What are you talking about?" She turned and tried to get him to look at her, but he wouldn't. "Hawkeye?"
"I'm a marked man." He whispered. "You've been sleeping with a backslider."
"A what? That's silly….." He was talking nonsense.
"Margaret!" He raised his voice. Suddenly it died down. "I broke my Hippocratic oath." He said softly as he looked at the wall.
Margaret touched his arm. "What?"
Hawkeye turned his head and looked at her with a blank stare. "Someone's dead, and it's all my fault. Instead of preventing it, I was the cause."
Margaret searched his eyes, looking for that familiar twinkle that told her was joking. He had to be kidding, Hawkeye could never…..he would never…..no, it wasn't possible….. "What?" Margaret had the blankest expression on her face that he'd ever seen.
Hawkeye looked away and added. "I'm sorry." His head dropped down dejectedly. "I told you…..I'm a…..a terrible person." He stood up unexpectedly, putting as much distance between them as possible.
Margaret's heart was racing in a mild panic. He couldn't just leave it off like that. "What are you talking about?" She questioned him as he walked across the room. Her expression didn't change as she watched him light a newly appeared cigarette.
"I don't know where to begin." He said in a somewhat calmer disposition. Apparently the cigarette seemed to have done something for him.
"How about the beginning." She offered as she watched him curiously. Margaret had seen him smoke before, but that was a long time ago.
Hawkeye turned his head and asked curiously. "Do you really want to know? I would have figured you'd have been gone already." His once frightened and childlike demeanor had changed instantly into one more cynical. Then in a more sardonic voice he added. "If you still want to, I promise I won't stop you this time."
Margaret suddenly felt as if someone had added the last piece to the puzzle. Now she knew why he'd been afraid to talk to her. "That's what's been bothering you all this time isn't it?" She picked up his wallet off the nightstand and leafed through it. Surprisingly, it only held his driver's license and a few dollars. He probably had a checkbook somewhere in the car. "You're not running away from what happened." She set his wallet down and looked at him, confidence written across her face. "You're running away from me aren't you?" He looked at her and their eyes met. Margaret found herself becoming slightly angry, he wasn't saying anything. "You didn't trust me, or trust my feelings for you. You had me figured before we even reunited, didn't you?"
Hawkeye's only response was to let a cloud of smoke escape through his mouth. He wasn't sure how to respond to that. What woman would want to have a relationship with a man like that? Of course he pegged her in advance.
Margaret didn't take his silence as an objection. "Well let me tell you something Benjamin." She emphasized his given name. "Relationships are built on trust. If you think you know me, if you think you have me all figured out, then you've got another coming!" Where had this doubt and self-affliction come from, Margaret didn't know. Hawkeye had always been a pretty trusting person.
"Well." He stubbed his cigarette out in a near by ashtray. "What was I supposed to think? Few women find homicide very attractive."
Margaret cringed when he said that word, she didn't believe that he had actually killed someone. Hawkeye saw how much it disturbed her; even if she would never admit to it. "Maybe you should try me first." Margaret managed to say calmly. "It's not really fair if I don't know what happened."
Hawkeye nodded, he knew he had to tell her the whole story. "I know, and that's why you're going to." He took a seat on the end of the bed. Margaret expected him to immediately start talking, but only sat there.
"Well….." Margaret asked anxiously when he didn't say anything.
She heard him take a deep breath and then sigh. Just thinking about it made his gut wrench. "Things were never the same after I came home." Hawkeye started off saying very quietly. "Everywhere I went people starred and whispered as I walked by. They didn't think I knew what they said, but I did. 'Did you hear about Benjamin Pierce? I heard that he lost his nerve, just couldn't handle the stress of war.' 'I heard that he was taken prisoner by the other side.' 'Did you know that they locked him up? Should have thrown away the key in my opinion.' I don't know where they got their ideas from, I never told anyone about what happened during the war, not even my father. The Ben Pierce that they had known and loved was gone, and the only logical benefactor was the war. There was no one else to blame. "
"Women didn't seem to excite me anymore liked they used to. I guess it didn't help that I already had my heart set on someone. Despite my objections they remained relentless, cornering me whenever they had the chance. I should have been delighted at all the women offering to bed me, but instead I felt the direct opposite. I rarely left our property and didn't talk to many people. When I did, it was always something about the weather or how the fish were biting. We just never had anything in common to talk about, my best friends were thousands of miles away."
Margaret scooted closer and picked up his hand. She gave it a tender squeeze. Being an Army Brat she'd always felt like she had missed something moving from place to place and not having a home town, but she never thought about living up to a lifelong image. She understood what he meant by missing his friends though, Margaret thought about the people from the 4077th all the time. On top of that, being away from Hawkeye for so long, and never being able to tell him how she felt, that just made the pain worse.
"After a couple weeks, I realized there was nothing left for me in Crabapple Cove. I wasn't any help to my father and his practice or to anyone else. I wasn't a fisherman or a farmer, and I certainly wasn't a doctor. So one day I just left. I packed my bag, said goodbye to my father, and just drove."
"Where did you go?"
"New York." Hawkeye lay back on the bed and rubbed his eyes.
"New York? What's there?" Margaret sat and watched him as he stretched. She was happy he was starting to open up to her. Hopefully once everything was out in the open, their relationship would grow into one more intimate.
"Family." He looked up at her from his back. "My mother's family." Hawkeye's voice was especially soft. "I didn't have a reason to go anywhere else. At least there I had someone."
"You had someone in Boston." She touched his arm. Hawkeye picked up her hand and kissed it.
"If only I would have known how you felt." He grinned. "Besides, I had no idea you'd be back so soon, or even where you settled. I thought about going back to Boston, but knowing that Charles and Trapper were there, I just didn't think it was a good idea."
"I wouldn't either." Seeing how he was trying to put Korea behind him, those two would have only made things harder on him.
"I think New York was good for me." Hawkeye said rolling more onto his side. "Being able to get lost in the big crowds, I think that's really what did the most good. Instead of being singled out I was just another face being pulled along in the current. I didn't think about the war, I didn't think about the pain, I didn't think about those fools all sitting high back in Maine, I simply didn't think about anything."
"That's why no one ever heard from you." Margaret voiced. She'd just realized that they'd been looking for him when he hadn't wanted to be found. "You didn't want to talk to any of us."
Hawkeye nodded. "I didn't want to think about the war. I didn't want to think about anyone." Margaret gave him a sad smile. "But I did think about you a lot. I thought about how much I wanted to be with you, how much I wanted to hold you and tell you I loved you." Margaret leaned down and kissed him softly. When he held open his arms to her she laid down beside him with her back against his chest. Hawkeye put an arm around her and started to speak again. "I did a lot of walking then. Sometimes for hours on end. There were days when I'd ride the ferries back and forth until it got dark or spend my time walking through the toy stores in Manhattan. I know that might sound odd, a grown man spending all his time in toy stores, but there was just something comforting about it." Margaret didn't necessarily think there was something wrong with it; she just wondered how he found the time. What about working, how did he manage to get by if he wasn't operating? "Things were like that for a while. Nothing dramatic really happened my first few weeks there. Then one day my cousin announced that she was getting married."
Hawkeye hadn't sounded very enthused when he said that. Usually marriages were happy occasions. "You didn't sound very happy when you said that."
He shook his head. "It was only the beginning."
"The beginning of what?"
"A long year. Marrying him was the worst thing that Angela ever did. It was then that all the trouble started." Hawkeye sighed and propped himself up on an elbow.
"Trouble?" Margaret asked.
"Well, for starters, his name was Jack Thomas." Hawkeye's fists tightened when he said that. "He worked for a small marketing corporation in the city. None of us were ever very fond of him. He just had a quality that turned people off. I didn't like him from the start." He clenched his jaw. "Anyway, when they got married no one from his family came to the wedding."
Margaret could hardly believe that. How could that happen? "No one?" She asked in disbelief. Hawkeye shook his head. "But how could that be? Why?"
His eyes locked on the floor again. "Because." He said very indignantly. "My mother's family is Italian." Margaret's eyes widened, what the hell kind of reason was that? Hawkeye caught her confusion. "It's a disgusting reason I know." He agreed. It made his blood boil just to think about it.
Margaret shook her head. "Some people….."
"On top of that. The bride was eight months pregnant." Margaret looked at him in surprise.
"So they had to get married," she figured.
Hawkeye nodded. "Basically." His hand was stroking her hip and his eyes were following. "It was a nice wedding though." He didn't look up. "No one really missed them." She smiled at that. "The time up until the birth of their son was fine, but when John was born something changed in Jack. He became controlling, constricting..." His voice trailed off. "Until one day he just...snapped." He raised his gaze. "He beat her." Donald had hurt Margaret very deeply when he cheated on her, but he had never laid a hand on her. "Bruises...her face, arms, back..."
"Oh my," Margaret choked out.
"It wasn't the first time," he told her. "He'd hit her once or twice before. He apologized, said he was sorry, said he loved her." Hawkeye's voice was filled with disgust.
"Of course he did."
Grimly he nodded. "I was at my Aunt's when I found out. Her sister picked up the phone, Eve was crying hysterically. She couldn't understand what she was saying so she passed it off to me." He had that far off look in his eyes again. "He'd even hit Nicky..."
"My Lord," Margaret gasped. The notion was inconceivable. Hawkeye sat on the edge of the bed and wrung his hands in anguish.
"She had bruises everywhere, all over her face and chest. And that sweet little kid..." Margaret had never seen him so upset. His jaw was stiff and his eyes were narrowed in a way that almost scared her. She had seen him angry before, but it was nothing like this. "I didn't know where to go or what to do, I was just too angry to sit there."
Margaret moved closer to him and rubbed his arm. "What happened?" She asked softly.
"I was furious, blinded by overwhelming rage. Without thinking I stood up and left. I went to their apartment building looking for him." Hawkeye was talking very quickly now. "I was walking up the first flight of stairs when I heard footsteps above me. When I stopped walking, the footsteps stopped. I stood without moving for a moment, listening for them to continue. I leaned over the railing and looked up, only to see that all too familiar face looking back down at me. He started running up the stairs as soon as he saw me. I chased after him for six flights and grabbed him by the back of his jacket. He tried to knock me down, but I pushed him forward and into the wall. I was punching and kicking him with such hatred, all I could think about was hurting him like he had hurt them." Hawkeye grew silent again. He was replaying the images of that night in his mind.
Margaret scooted closer to him and put her arms around him in a comforting embrace. Hawkeye reciprocated and hugged her to him. "What happened next?"
"We struggled," Hawkeye said with a blank demeanor. "He hit me a few times, but he was the one to give out first." Hawkeye touched his cheek where the other man had struck him. "I sat against the wall for a few minutes, sipping the bottle of vodka I had kept in my coat pocket. When I felt that I could stand I stood up and started making my way back down the stairs," he told her. "Suddenly I heard a shuffling behind me. He grabbed the back of my coat as I was turning around. I struggled to get him off me, but he held on tighter. Finally I swung around and elbowed him in the side." Hawkeye looked down suddenly. "He lost his balance and grabbed hold my coat to stable himself, but that only caused us both to fall. I fell back down the stairs and hit my head…..Jack went over the rail."
Margaret gasped. She covered her mouth with her hand. "Did he….."
Hawkeye still wouldn't look at her. He lowered his head to avoid making eye contact. "He fell seven stories."
She gasped again, this time tears streamed down her face. "Oh Hawkeye." Margaret embraced him again and pulled him close. Hawkeye hugged her back. She started to cry softly on his chest. The loss of human life was always a tragic thing, even when it involved the worst of people.
"I don't remember anything after that," he said softly. "The fall had knocked me unconscious. I was still lying on the landing when the police arrived."
Margaret lifted her head. "They didn't arrest you did they?" It wasn't his fault the other man had fallen. He hadn't pushed him. They'd fought and Hawkeye had given him sound beating, but nothing more. After all, Jack had gotten up and attacked him while his back was turned. Hawkeye had probably been unconscious even before Jack hit the floor.
"No, they didn't arrest me," he told her. "They didn't have any witnesses." Hawkeye grew silent again. He turned his back to her. "All though, they probably should have. God knows I deserved it," he said with a sorrowful sigh.
She felt a pain in her chest when he said that. "Oh no!" Margaret touched his back. "Hawkeye….." This was what had been bothering him the whole time.
"It's my fault he's dead." He turned around to look at her, his eyes reflected the pain in his tone. "I practically pushed him over the side." A couple of silent tears streamed down his face. Margaret pulled him into her arms and cradled his head in her hands. "It's my fault….." He murmured as he began to break down. "It's all my fault. I killed him." That's when Hawkeye lost it. He started to cry openly on her chest, his tears soaking through her shirt. Margaret gathered as much of him into her arms as she could and rubbed his back.
"No, it was an accident. It wasn't your fault," she whispered into his hair as her eyes too began to tear.
"It's my fault…..it's all my fault." He wept, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist.
Margaret didn't think for minute that it was Hawkeye's fault that the other man had fallen. He had lost his balance due to his advance and caused them both to fall. No wonder he wasn't acting like himself. He had expecting Margaret to hate him as much as he hated himself.
One thing still bothered her however, where had he gotten that scar?
