The next morning Margaret sluggishly pulled herself off of her bed. She followed her normal routine of brushing her hair, washing her face…ect. She did all these things as if in a trance. She pulled on a light green dress, thinking that the color was absurd for such a dreary day. She then attempted to put apply make up around her eye. She managed to his the ugly black and blue mark but there was nothing she could do about the swelling. She wrapped her sweater around her shoulders and headed outside.

As she opened the door she gasped. It was still dark! She glanced at the clock. It was only four-thirty! Margaret shut the door and sank onto the couch, feeling rather strange. She sighed and laid back onto the couch, something poked into her back and she sat up. She reached behind her and pulled out a small doll; Bridget's doll. Panic swept through her. Where was Bridget? Margaret thought about the night before, Bridget had never come back to the cabin. Margaret jumped up and ran outside. She splashed through the mud until she reached the Hunicutt's cabin.

"BJ!" She whispered fiercely as she knocked on the door. A very tired and bewildered BJ opened the door, wearing that all-too-familiar robe.

"Margaret?" He said incredulously. "What's going on?"

"Bridget's gone; she never came back to the cabin last night!" Margaret was almost hysterical. Where was her little girl?

BJ's eyes widened. "Come on in." Margaret followed him inside squinting at the light.

"BJ," Peg's worried voice drifted in from the other room. "What is it?"

"It's Margaret, Bridget never…" His voice quieted as he closed the door behind him. Margaret sat down in a straight back chair. She was trying her hardest to control her emotions.

"Come on Margaret." BJ said as he reentered the room, now dressed. He opened the door and stood aside to let her pass but then gasped sharply. "Margaret what happened to you?"

Embarrassed, Margaret tilted her head forward letting her hair drape over her eye. She didn't respond, and only brushed past him and waited for him in the dark. BJ realized that she didn't want to talk about it and followed her, grabbing a flashlight as he walked out.

"Why don't we check at the main house first?" He suggested. "Maybe they saw her." Margaret nodded dumbly and followed him.

BJ only knocked once before Daniel opened the door. He was already fully awake and fully clothed. He smiled when he saw Margaret standing behind BJ.

"I thought you might be stopping by soon." He chuckled and opened the door so they could come through. Margaret stepped inside and followed Daniel into the living room. It was dark and Margaret had to wait a moment so her eyes could adjust to the light. She saw Hawkeye asleep on the couch, a blanked tossed on top of him. Margaret looked closer and realized that Bridget was bundled up inside. She sank onto a chair and began to cry bitterly. If anyone had asked she wouldn't have been able to tell them what she was crying for. Maybe it was because of Donald, maybe it was relief over finding Bridget, or maybe it was the sight of her daughter in the arms of a man other than Donald. In any case Daniel helped her up and supported her as the threesome walked into the kitchen.


"Are you sure you can't stay Margaret?" Hawkeye asked her as he held open the door of the taxi. She shook her head.

"I have to get home. I have to see if I can patch things up with Donald." She said determinedly. Hawkeye relented and knelt down beside Bridget.

"I'm gonna miss you Freckles." He said cheerfully. "But I'll see you next year, your mommy promised." Bridget nodded and climbed inside the taxi next to her mother.

"I'll see you later Hot Lips." He said before closing the door. He walked back inside but paused at the door. He turned just in time to see Bridget twist around in her seat and wave through the window.


The week flew by for Hawkeye but he thoroughly enjoyed himself. They spent all their time outside; playing games and eating, and reminiscing about good times and bad in Korea. But all too soon the week came to an end. The fourth of July was on a Saturday and they all stayed up late to celebrate. Everyone rose late on Sunday morning and began to pack. By six o'clock that evening everyone had gone. Early Monday morning Hawkeye headed for work. He had worked with his father at his private practice for a while but after a month or two he returned to surgery. He worked at the town's closest hospital, about a half hour away.

"Hello Dr. Pierce," his secretary, Marissa greeted.

"Hello sexy, what's on today's agenda?" Marissa rolled her eyes and motioned inside his office.

"It's all on your desk."

Hawkeye walked into his office and leafed through the files of the patients he would be operating on that day. To his relief there were only two. They both seemed simple enough. He paused at the second file.

"Marissa," He called. "Why isn't there a name on the second file?"

She poked her head into his office. "When Dr. Jameson dropped the files off he said that the woman had been brought in unconscious with no identification." Hawkeye nodded.

"Say, I have a half hour before I have to operate. What do you say we…"

"Not a chance." She said firmly as she left his office.


"Teresa, can I get some gloves now?" Hawkeye asked impatiently.

"Sorry Dr. Pierce," she said nervously.

Hawkeye and Bret Jameson walked into the OR. "So what's the scoop on this one?" Hawkeye asked him.

"She was brought in about five days ago. The taxi she was in was hit by a drunk driver. She had several broken ribs and massive internal bleeding. Personally I don't know why I'm wasting my time on this operation. There isn't a chance she's going to make it."

Hawkeye glared at the man. "Tell me Bret, how did you learn to be such a calloused jerk? Or were you just born that way?"

"Let's get this over with." The man muttered in response. As the two men began to operate Hawkeye saw exactly what it was Bret had been talking about. Hawkeye didn't think she would make it either but he had to try.

"This is the third time we have had to open her up." Bret stated. "The last time her heart stopped." They worked in silence for a few more moments before the anesthesiologist alerted them that her heat beat was decreasing.

Hawkeye cursed and the two men began to pick up their speed so that they could close.

"I'm not getting a pulse."

"Come on hang in there." Hawkeye said as he began working frantically to regain a pulse. Nothing.

"She's gone Hawk." Bret said gently.

"No! I can…"

"No Hawkeye, she's gone. It's over!" Hawkeye ripped off his surgical gloves and stormed out of the OR. The staff inside could hear him cursing as he walked down the hall. One of the nurses ran after him.

"Dr. Pierce," she called hesitantly. "We need you to verify the time of death. You were the leading surgeon." He nodded and turned around, heading back into the room. He picked up the woman's chart and glanced over it. Female, 5'3, blonde, blue eyes. He skipped her description and turned the page. He began to write. Cause of death: Heart failure. Time of death: 9:47 am. July fourth 1963.

Hawkeye sighed as he placed the chart on the counter behind him. He stared at the open incision that Bret was closing. No matter how many times this happened he couldn't get over feeling like there was something more he could have done. The anesthesiologist stood up and walked across the room to remove his surgical mask. Hawkeye slowly walked to where the man had been sitting. He removed the oxygen mask off of the woman's face. Amidst the bruises and gashes covering her face Hawkeye saw something familiar. What he saw made him feel violently sick. He sat down heavily in the chair behind him.

"Doctor," One of the nurses asked hesitantly. "Doctor are you all right?" Hawkeye leaned forward, placing his head in his hands as he began to cry softly. The medical staff looked at him strangely as they heard him mutter to himself.

"Oh my god Margaret…Margaret…"