Hawkeye knocked gently on Margaret's door. She had been avoiding him all day. He didn't really blame her; she had to know that he wouldn't let her problems go unnoticed. He had taken a shower, shaved and put on a semi-clean uniform. He didn't want to risk her wrath.
"Come in." He heard her say lightly.
He opened the door and stepped into the tent. Margaret's back was to him; she didn't turn around, but fiddled with her brush and hand-mirror. Hawkeye thought she had never looked lovelier. She had on her silk nightgown, the one she used to wear for Frank, he noticed. She had just let her hair down and it looked like spun-gold spilling around her shoulders. He smiled.
"Hey Hot Lips." She stiffened noticeably and spun around. Hawkeye cringed at the look on her face. It was one mixed of anger and humiliation; he would never be able to get a word out of her.
"We need to talk." She started to say something but he held up his hand to silence her.
Hawkeye succeeded in getting her to openly admit that it was Donald who was hurting her. It was rather obvious, but he was still surprised that she admitted it. She was very nervous and suddenly turned the tables by questioning his reaction during the exam.
Hawkeye tried not to smile. "She probably thinks I'm a total jerk! Smiling like that…"
"Dead men tell no tales." He picked up her hands and smiled at her. And she attempted to smile back. That smile, however shaky, was a welcome sight for Pierce. It proved that she was at least willing to be civil; maybe even friendly. Then he made a mistake, a very stupid mistake.
"Why don't you leave him?" Hawkeye felt regret sweep over him the moment he said it. She instantly became rigid and tried to pull her hands away. Hawkeye refused to release them. He cringed inwardly as she defiantly stared back at him.
"I love him!" She declared passionately. Hawkeye almost laughed aloud. He raised one eyebrow questioningly. He couldn't believe she just said that. She regretted that statement, he could tell. He knew she only said it because he got her defenses up and she was trying to get back on top of her emotions.
She stood up and began pacing around the room. He sat there watching, knowing that she needed a little space. She looked at him and sighed. She had a defeated look on her face; he hated seeing her like that. He stood up and pulled her to him. She allowed him to hold her in a comforting embrace. Then she began to cry. He held her closer and stroked her hair until she calmed down.
Several hours later Pierce sat on the cot, holding Margaret in his arms. She had been sleeping for about twenty minutes and he was debating whether or not to leave. He was enjoying watching her sleep. He thought she looked like an angel.
He stroked her hair gently, thinking about what had just occurred. He thought she hated him; and yet she allowed him to get close enough to comfort her. She had told him everything, some of it he wasn't sure if he really wanted to know. She had broken down and cried almost every fifteen minutes. He knew it was good for her.
He glanced at the clock on her desk; it was almost five. He had to get some sleep. Cautiously he scooted out from underneath Margaret, pulling a blanket over her than he silently slipped out of her tent.
He quickly walked to the swamp. Entering he looked around to make sure BJ, and Charles were asleep. He climbed onto his cot but had an after-thought. He quietly opened his foot-locker and dug to the bottom pulling out a small box he had asked his father to send him. He opened it and two rings lay inside on the faded, blue velvet; glittering in the moonlight. He smiled and gently placed the box back in the locker.