Margaret sat down on her worn couch and opened her first letter eagerly.

Margaret, how have you been feeling lately? I hope the little one hasn't been giving you any trouble. We miss you Margaret; especially your nurses. Your replacement is a pain. She is the most uptight, and obnoxious woman I have ever met! We never realized just how special you were until we lost you. That sounds strange, I know, but it's true. I have to go Margaret, wounded…

All my love, BJ

Margaret smiled as she refolded his letter and placed it back into its envelope. Dear, sweet BJ, he wrote to her every week. Sometimes the letters were very short, but they always were waiting for her when she came home from work at the hospital. Colonel Potter and Hawkeye were the only other one's who still wrote her. In the first few weeks she received a couple letters wishing her well, but their consistency faded quickly. Colonel Potter wrote as often as he could but he was busy so his letters were few and far between. Hawkeye however, wrote her several times each week. Margaret finally concluded that he found it relaxing to write. She had often noticed him writing to his father, she supposed that writing about his day relaxed him, and Margaret was a very willing reader. She craved any news from "home."

Hello Love,

Crazy things going on here. First of all Jessica, your replacement, is driving everyone insane. She is a thousand times worse than you ever were! (No offense) At least with you all we had to do was get you drunk and you were everyone's best friend! (Just kidding, please don't hit me when I get home.) Back to Jessica, she is constantly correcting everyone's work, even the doctor's! I'm not sure if I can take it anymore! If I hear her tell me how to do surgery one more time I swear I'll…well I don't want to upset you...ha-ha

How are you doing? I know you told me that the baby is kicking a lot lately. I hope he'll give his mother a break…I know, I know I keep referring to it as a he, but it doesn't seem right to keep referring to the baby as an "it". How would you like to be called an "it"? Sorry, I know this letter will be strange in parts, it's late here and I can't fall asleep.

Good news! BJ had a great idea, there is going to be a reunion, stateside, for all the families of us folk at the 4077th. I know it might be hard to make it, what with you condition, but I really think you would enjoy yourself. And I'm dying for my dad to meet you.

I miss you Margaret, I really, really miss you. I've been thinking about this damn war a lot lately, well it's rather hard not too. I hate this place and I would rather be anywhere than here, watching child after child die right in front of me. But, if it weren't for this war I never would have met you, or BJ, or Henry… I hope you're doing alright Margaret, it just wouldn't be right if you finally got to go home and then you felt miserable. I know it's hard for you but please don't isolate yourself. Well BJ just glared at me again because my light is on, I'll write you again soon with details for the reunion. I miss you Major Baby,

Love, Your Legally Wedded Husband, Hawkeye

Margaret laughed slightly; she had already received the detail for the reunion three days ago. She sighed and shook her head, stupid mail service. It bothered her that Hawkeye seemed to be so depressed. Almost all of his letters were mainly talking about death and destruction; she prayed it would all be over soon.

Margaret walked to the small theater in town. She was now living in a relatively small town in New Jersey. She was also employed as a nurse at a private practice only two blocks away from her apartment. Margaret sullenly stood in front of the theater to see what was playing. The Robe and Peter Pan.

"Oh the joys I will have." She muttered cynically to herself. "Oh well," she turned her attention to the man at the ticket counter.

"One adult ticket for Peter Pan."

Margaret walked into the dark theater and sat down, utterly spent from her day at work. She desperately wanted something to take her mind off of things. She hoped this would do the trick. Although a cartoon wasn't exactly her idea of a good time, it was better than nothing, and the other movie sounded like a snoozer.

Right as the movie was about to start, a woman with a little girl, around five years old, slipped into the seats next to Margaret. Margaret groaned inwardly, now she would be avoiding flailing arms, and sticky fingers for the entire movie. She looked around for another place to sit but the room was packed with families.

Margaret soon became absorbed in the movie and forgot all about the child beside her. At first she felt a little foolish for being so involved in a children's show, but she quickly brushed off the feeling and decided to enjoy herself.

After the show Margaret stood up and stretched her legs. She had really enjoyed the movie, she heard a sharp cry behind her and she turned. The little was on the floor and her mother was hovering over her and crying. Margaret gently pushed the woman back and tried to see what was wrong with the little girl.

"What happened?" Margaret directed the question to the mother but a man in the next row answered her.

"She slipped and hit her head on the chair." Margaret winced when she heard that, the backs of the chairs were made of metal, not an ideal place to hit your head.

Cautiously Margaret knelt down and picked up the child's head to feel for a bump. Her hand contacted liquid and she raised her hand and bit her lips together to keep from making a noise, her hand was coated in blood.

The mother screamed when she saw this and it was all Margaret could do to keep herself from fleeing. She grabbed her coat off of her chair and pressed it firmly behind the child's head.

"Somebody call an ambulance!" she screamed. Margaret shifted her body and worriedly pressed her jacket more firmly against the wound. She took a shaky breath and tears began to silently spill down her cheeks as she looked at the child's pale face.

After what seemed like an eternity two paramedics rushed in with a stretcher and placed the child on it. The commotion died down instantly and Margaret pulled on her coat and walked home, oblivious to the stares she was getting with her blood-soaked jacket. She made it to her apartment and collapsed onto her bed in tears. There was so much pain, why wherever she went was she always surrounded with pain? There was no one who could help her. No one could understand it; no one had been there with her when she lay awake at night, screaming into her pillow to muffle the noise of the shell-fire. No one had been there in hour after hour of meatball surgery on young men and children.

At least in Korea she was surrounded with people who knew what it was like, but here where she was supposed to feel safe and relieved all she felt was terror and loneliness. Never had she felt so alone.