Life is a lot like the weather. Things can change from sunny to overcast without a moments notice. It beats you down and soaks you, pushes you in every direction except the one you really want to go, and leaves you cold and battered before it's done. And then one day the darkness parts and sun comes out, and you just know that everything's going to be all right.

Margaret hummed softly to herself as she drove. It was a cloudless day, much unlike the one before. The day before had been a nasty one, with gusts of wind and pounding rain. Brief flashes of lightning illuminated a dark and dreary day; a day filled with despair and lost hopes. A soft breeze caressed her face and shoulders as her hair blew lightly in the wind. The sun shone bravely, casting an over shadow on the passing landscape as they drove. She held her hands at ten and twelve, gazing daringly at the road ahead of her.

Beside her, her lover lay sleeping peacefully. His thick hair blew easily in the wind, its long fingers running gracefully combing it. The sun illuminated his face in its upturned form, refining the gentleness and dexterity that she had come to love. In the midst of all that darkness a spark had exalted, kindling the hope that was still held between them. For a while there, Margaret had been prepared for the time when the lights would go out on them for good, but she never lost her hope. In her heart she knew that he loved her, it was just a question of how much she loved him.

"How much gas is left?" The sudden dexterity and grinding in his voice caused her to look over her shoulder at him.

Margaret glanced at him through the sides of her glasses and a gentle smile came across her face. His head was tilted towards her, his eyes were barely open. He was waiting for her to answer him. "We can go for a little longer," she reassured him.

Hawkeye closed his eyes, satisfied with her answer for the moment, and relaxed once more against the seat. "Don't wait too long," he spoke softly.

Margaret let his words fly past her, he was just being paranoid. She knew what she was doing. "Let me worry about the everything. You just relax and let me do the driving," she patted his leg amusingly.

They drove for another few hours, most of which Hawkeye slept through. He was restless for the most part, which in turn worried Margaret. The few times he woke up he didn't speak, he just sat there, watching the scenery pass by. She wished she knew what he was thinking, that she could see what he was seeing and hear what he wasn't saying. At last she finally sanctioned him to sit closer to her, she was thankful it didn't take much persuasion. The only persuasion he required was the encouragement of her outstretched arm.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Margaret leaned against the car, watching as he checked the spark plugs and then screwed the distributor cap back on. "Will you tell me something?" Margaret asked him quietly as she watched.

Hawkeye looked up, settling his gaze upon hers. A small smile played across his lips. He couldn't help but smile; she had such an accentuated look on her face. "It depends on what it is." He shut the hood and pulled a rag out from his back pocket and began wiping his hands off.

"I think you know." Her eyes were playful, yet incredibly threatening.

Hawkeye laughed lightly and walked past her. He threw the rag into the back seat and picked up a bottle of water he'd left sitting in the driver's seat. "Is it really that important?"

Margaret caught his arm and pulled him close. "Please, I'm curious."

He turned and let himself be caught. "All right," he stopped resisting and let her draw him closer.

Her upper lip curled slightly, "Well?"

Hawkeye pretended to consider whether or not to tell her. He knew she hated it when he procrastinated. She'd been asking him postwar questions all morning. He was convinced now that she was doing it to purposely drive him crazy. "Fine, three days," he finally succumbed.

"Three days?" She laughed. That was a little hard to believe. Margaret hadn't lasted three hours, let alone three days.

He set the bottle down on the hood and gave into her persistence, slipping his arms around her waist. "Are you mocking me?" He asked.

Idly she started scratching at the underside of his right scapula, it was her way of subconsciously loosening him up. He was so tense. "Not at all, I just can't believe that you waited so long."

"It just wasn't a priority at that time." He shifted closer, pressing their bodies together.

Margaret's breathing quickened a little at their sudden contact. "What couldn't you have possibly put off for twenty minutes?" She knew he was aware of the effect he was having on her.

"I was sleeping."

She wasn't sure whether or not to completely believe that, then again look whom she was with. He could be pretty listless when he wanted, especially when it came to sleeping. "You slept for three days?" Her voice gave the notion that she didn't believe him.

"Well, not everyone was entitled to a commercial plane ride from Tokyo," he told her. "I spent two days in the back of an Army transport plane." Margaret was curious as to how he knew that she'd gone to Japan from the 8063rd. Then again, she was growing accustomed to his unusual lore.

"You've stood longer during surges."

"Yes, but this was after wounded and that all night party we had."

Margaret smiled amusingly and pressed her face into his chest. His shirt was warm and smelled of old heat and basil, a purely Hawkeye smell. "Ah, that explains it. Not only were you tired, but you were hung over," she said against his chest with a grin.

"You don't sound very sympathetic," he told her, knowing what she was doing.

Margaret picked up her head and looked up at him, "You are such a man." She gave him a disbelieved look. "I had just as little sleep as you and I still had to assist with a second tare down."

"Just because I wasn't ordered to go doesn't mean I wasn't exhausted." He wasn't putting up much of a fight, he knew how badly she wanted to duel with him, but it was more fun when he withheld. At least this way he could still get his point across.

"Is sleep all you think about?" She inquired.

His face looked too relaxed for her restlessness, it was just impelling her, and Hawkeye knew that. "No," he said rather nonchalantly.

"So then what is it? Since you obviously don't eat or shower."

His face was expressionless and hard to read as his eyes moved over her face. "I think about you."

That phrase completely caught her off guard, she hadn't been expecting that at all. Margaret smiled at him adoringly. She put her hand on the back his neck and kissed him affectionately. They kissed ardently several times. "That's the best answer you've given me all day."

"Well you did set yourself up."

She smiled again, "Come on, I'm starving." She kissed him again and then slid off the hood of the car. Hawkeye picked up his water and the paper bag sitting beside it. Margaret grabbed his hand and pulled him through the grass. They sat down at a picnic table in the shade.

"You had onions on yours didn't you?" Hawkeye asked as he laid the contents of the bag out on the table. Margaret nodded. They'd stopped off at the last food joint they'd seen and gotten a couple of sandwiches to go. With it being such a nice day and all, Margaret thought it would have been nice to stop and eat elsewhere. "Here honey," he handed her an unwrapped sandwich.

Margaret's face flushed at the endearment, "Thank you."

Hawkeye opened another glass bottle of water; he set it down on the table in front of her. He looked down at his own sandwich sitting in front of him. "You know what would make this even better?" He asked her.

"Chocolate cake?" She tried to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up. They'd had a similar 'shower' conversation in the car over that very thing.

Hawkeye smiled when he caught on. "Chips," he emphasized.

Margaret looked at her sandwich; it looked more like a hoagie. She didn't think she'd be able to finish it, let alone chips. "I doubt I'll even make it through this, let alone something else."

He chuckled and picked up his sandwich, "Chocolate cake is too fattening anyway." He knew how much she loved that.

Margaret was in the midst of chewing when he said that, for her lack of words she glared at him and narrowed her eyes. Hawkeye smiled gaily at her loss of words, he knew she was dying for a comeback. Once the chance became available Margaret said, "Are you insinuating something?"

Hawkeye shook his head defensively. "Not at all."

"Because if you are, you can forget about seeing anything ever again."

Hawkeye shrugged his shoulders dissuasively. "I didn't see anything the first time, I turned off the light remember?" Margaret kicked him under the table, she knew what he suggesting. "Ow, I was kidding! You're beautiful, you know I think so."

"You better," she told him.

Hawkeye leaned over the table on his elbows. "I think you're gorgeous," he told her sincerely.

Margaret couldn't help but smile, she was never going to get used to that. "You're pretty okay yourself." Hawkeye didn't say anything, he just smiled and leaned over and kissed her. "That reminds me." She didn't want it to sound obvious, but she couldn't help but be inquisitive. "You told me we were stopping somewhere for a couple of days, but you never elaborated further."

Hawkeye took a sip of water, "That's right."

"Well, aren't you going to tell me?" She was very anxious. No more getting up early and traveling all day in the car. They were finally going to be given the chance to just be together. Margaret was looking forward to spending some time alone with him.

He took a bite of his sandwich, "You're just going to have wait and see."

"That's going to be a little hard to do, seeing as how I'm driving," she reminded him cheekily.

Hawkeye produced a set of keys; he jingled them in the air. "You were saying?"

Lunch took a lot longer than either one of them had expected it would. That was probably because they spent most of the time pent up in a solicitous argument. Hawkeye let her win that one; he felt he owed it to her. He sat and watched her as she finished her sandwich; and she said he was a picky eater. "Is there any water left in that?" She pointed to the bottle sitting in front of him. Hawkeye handed it over. He watched as she finished off the last of it.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hawkeye was an indescribable person, beyond comparison and indisputable. He was discerning and consuming, revering and beguiling. There was something fearsome within that calm demeanor, something attracting and compulsive. He was like a drug, addictive and enhancing.

The mountain scene was a big change from the flat landscape of California and Utah. Colorado was drastically different, yet in some way remotely familiar. It had that same secluded feeling, that feeling that made you feel alone and disillusioned. She could see why he'd chosen to come here; it was quiet and spacious. People had the habit of suffocating him; obstacles had a way of ill proportioning. In wide-open spaces he could be the shadow in the distance.

He had mentioned they were staying somewhere secluded for a few days, but he had never elaborated on the subject. Margaret had guessed they were going to be staying someplace slightly more intimate than a Best Western, but she had no idea he had this in mind. He said the cabin belonged to a friend of his whom only made it back that way maybe once or twice a year, everything had been prearranged, she had no reason to feel intrusive or uncomfortable. The only thing that got Margaret was that she couldn't remember him making any sort of arrangements, especially with how things had gone the last couple of days, and she was pretty sure that it hadn't been his intention to bring Trapper to a cabin in the mountains.

Margaret finished unpacking her suitcase, placing the last of her clothes in the chest of drawers. She pushed the drawer closed, taking a moment to run her hand across the fine cedar wood. The grain felt smooth against her palm and fingertips. "What are you thinking about?" The voice was calm and sullen behind her. He had just come in from chopping wood for the fire. Outside it was beginning to rain, the soft pitter-patter could be heard against the roof.

She turned, meeting his gaze. He was leaning against the wall opposite of her, standing in a dark shadow that had been cast by the curtains of the open window. "Can I ask you something?" She didn't want to come across as being shoddy or insinuative, that was the last thing she wanted to do.

Despite the darkness of the room, she could still see the dauntless look in his eyes. "Go ahead," he spoke in a subdued manner.

Margaret ran her hand over the wood again. "You wouldn't lie to me, would you?" She looked back at him, giving him an open and completely earnest look.

His gaze fixated on her face momentarily. He appeared to be a little hurt at the accusation. "No," he told her softly.

She studied his demeanor, noting the folded arms and concentrated gaze. "Have you been honest with me?"

His disposition didn't seem to change, well not that she could tell. He was looking at her with a steady fixation, one that made her feel somewhat uneasy. After a long moment he offered an asinine and slightly agitated, "Yes."

She could tell from his inclination that the question bothered him. Those eyes were so dark. Her objective hadn't been to insult him, and she was afraid she had, but she couldn't let the presented opportunity slip away. He had made such a stand the night before; she couldn't pretend that it hadn't happened. There were so many unsaid things between them. "There's something we need to talk about."

He stood motionless, searching her face with intensity and a curious uncertainty. Those caliginous eyes, that furrowed brow, it was hard to know what he was thinking. After a long moment of silence he spoke, "BJ told you, didn't he?"

She searched his face, looking for an insight into what he was thinking. He was still starring at her with a fixed expression. "Yes."

Hawkeye was standing with his arms folded across his chest; he was looking at her with a certain peculiarity. His expression neither revealed belligerence or unconstraint. "I should have known," he murmured softly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" She asked calmly.

Hawkeye had a cool air about him. "You already knew, what more is there to tell?"

Feeling equally defensive she said, "If we're going to build a relationship, we have to be open with one another."

"Open?" He unfolded his arms and stood up. "You want me to be open about something you all had a meeting over?" He was very well aware of their colloquium. His eyes narrowed and he looked at her shrewdly. "Something that no one had the right to know in the first place?"

"We should be able to tell each other anything," she told him. "Have you already forgotten about last night?" His eyes seemed to illuminate at her words. "Do you even really love me?"

He was quiet for a moment. His face had softened and he was looking at her with a somber expression. With heart felt sentiment he said in a soft voice, "More than anything."

It relieved Margaret to hear that. "I wish you weren't afraid of me."

Hawkeye looked taken aback. She was right, he was afraid of her. "I couldn't even admit it to myself," he said finally. "Let alone to anyone else." He had been blind to it and it had driven him to his breaking point.

"You lied to me," she came out boldly.

The flame in his eyes came alive. "No," he objected in a roaring voice. Suddenly he was off the wall. "I did not lie about anything."

"What about all that you told me about needing to leave Maine?" She asked him earnestly. "You weren't truthful about that, I know that."

He turned so he wasn't facing her and put one hand on his head. "Fuck Hunnicutt."

"He told me because he was concerned about you, just like Sidney..."

Suddenly he turned. "Fuck Sidney!" He yelled. "It wasn't any of their business!" Margaret clutched her sweater at the arms and moved slightly backwards. He'd noticed her step back and ran a hand across his face. He hadn't meant to yell at her like that. "They had no right," he said in a softer voice.

Margaret's hand was resting on her chest. He looked very distressed. "I thought you..."

Hawkeye turned and looked out the window. "Told them? No," he told her flatly. "That was my father's doing."

Margaret hadn't been aware of that. Although she was sure he'd had the best intentions. "I'm sure he was just..."

"He didn't have the right," Hawkeye repeated. "I was in Korea for three years, and in all that time he couldn't tell me. It took him all of five minutes to tell a total stranger." Margaret didn't know what to say. She imagined that she would feel similar had her father kept such a thing from her. He turned his head and looked at her from over his shoulder. In a matter of factly tone he said, "I haven't talked to my father since."

This was news to Margaret. She'd been under the impression that Trapper had picked him up in Maine. "I thought you drove to California from Maine."

"Oh I did." He turned around completely. "I just took a three month detour through Boston."

She pursed her lips. "And you haven't talked to him since?"

Hawkeye nodded. "That's right."

Margaret held her elbow in her hand against her stomach and cupped her chin with the other. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

He walked across the room and sat down on the bed. "What's there to tell?" He asked looking at her. "You already know everything."

She'd only heard as much as Daniel had told BJ. "I want to hear it from you."

Hawkeye sighed heavily and ran a hand across his face. "When I was in my sophomore year of college my father went to Rome for the funeral of a close friend." He put his hands on his knees and looked up at her. "He spent three weeks there, during which he had a short romance with an Italian woman. It ended when he came home. Two weeks before I was to be shipped out he got this letter in the mail." Hawkeye stood up and put his hands in his pockets. "Apparently sometime during the two weeks that they spent together she got pregnant." He removed his hands from his pockets and ran them both through his hair. "I have a ten year old brother." He stood looking at the floor. "And in those two weeks before I left, he couldn't tell me." Hawkeye was starting to talk faster. "For three years he kept it to himself. For three years he knew and he never told me. All that time I spent missing him...and he'd already replaced me."

"No," she shook her head. "He loves you. No one can change that."

He lifted his head and looked her in the eye. "You know what I did when he told me?" He asked. "I flipped the kitchen table."

"You were upset, it's understandable."

"Not nearly as comparable as to when I got drunk and chased Toby Wilder down the street with a forty-five." Margaret's eyes widened. "Now that I think about it, I haven't seen him since that night either."

"Good Lord."

"My best friend didn't even have the guts to tell me."

"Well..." How did someone handle a situation like this? "How do you tell something like that in a letter?"

"Two weeks Margaret. Two weeks!" He walked over to her. "He had two weeks to tell me, and he didn't!"

Margaret didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry honey." She reached out and touched his arm.

"I've lost everything," he said in a soft voice. "My friends, my family..."

She put her other hand on his face. "We have each other."

He smiled sadly. "You're all I have." He covered her hand with his. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you."

"You're never going to have to find out."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Her spoon clanked against the edge of the bowl. Once, twice, three times. She sipped the rich broth gingerly. The warmth was almost more compelling than the taste. Across from her Hawkeye was watching the rain pound against the window. The spoon was resting in his hand as it rested on the edge of the bowl. He had barely touched his soup.

"Hawkeye." He had a blank expression on his face. "What's wrong, darling?"

He looked almost lurid. "He wants me to meet them," he said in a wispy voice.

"You mean..." She didn't even know the woman's name.

"Yeah." Hawkeye was still starring out the window.

Margaret wasn't quite sure what to say. She thought for a moment. "Well, do you know when?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "End of July maybe."

This certainly was a touchy subject. She didn't want to set him off. "What are you going to do?"

Hawkeye pushed back his chair and stood up. "I don't know." He picked up his bowl and carried it over to the sink.

Margaret watched as he emptied the remnants of the soup down the drain. "Well, you don't have to decide right now."

There was a loud banging sound as he dropped the clay bowl into the metal sink. "Yeah." Although it was clear that what she'd said hadn't registered.

Margaret stood up and set her dishes on the counter. "Let's not worry about that right now. Why don't we just concentrate on us this week."

He had moved to stand beside the window. The pouring rain outside was running down the glass. "I have a little brother." He looked over at her. "How can I ignore that?"

Margaret had her arms folded. The small cabin was starting to become increasingly colder. "You can't." Hawkeye sighed and leaned against the window frame. "And there's no reason why you should have to." She walked over to him and put her hand on his arm. "All you can do is accept that you can't do anything about it and put it behind you."

"How can I just put it behind me?"

"Maybe not put behind, let me rephrase that," she said. "You can't change the fact that your father fathered another child, but you can accept it and move on."

He shook his head. "You can't just move on."

"But you're here with me. We're together."

He tilted his head and looked down at her. She was right. He was taking advantage of her, of their time together. "I'm sorry."

Margaret shook her head. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Ever since I left Korea I regretted telling you how I felt. I spent this entire past year wishing that we could be together. And now that we are...I...I can't seem to keep my head strait."

She rubbed his arm. "I know that you had a tough year. I understand what it's like to come home expecting everything to be better because you're home, just to be let down."

He moved away from the wall and wrapped his arms around her. "I don't know what I would have done had you rejected me."

She smiled against his warm shirt. "But I didn't." He kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo at the same time. After a moment she stepped back and picked up his hand. She started walking backward, pulling him along. Hawkeye smiled at the mischievous look on her face as she led him back toward the bed.

"Wait." He stopped midstep and held a hand up. "Let me add some logs to the fire."

"Okay." She let go of his hand.

Hawkeye walked over to the fireplace and tossed two logs onto the dwindling fire. Satisfied that the blaze was strong enough he walked over to the bed where Margaret was already lying. He put his knee on the edge and got on, moving until he was lying over her. "I love you," he said looking into her intense blue eyes.

Her hand was resting on his side. "I love you."

His eyes moved down to outline her lips. Making eye contact again he leaned down and kissed her.

Hawkeye had anticipated that once Margaret was in his life his problems would dissolve. He knew now that it didn't work like that. Margaret was there to help him, but she couldn't make everything disappear. That was up to him. In order to do that though, he had to come clean. He had to be completely honest with her, about everything. Starting with the whole story.