Okay, so this is along the lines of Comradeds in Arms. However my memory isn't too good and I haven't seen the episode in a while so it will be a bit off...sorry. Anyway, I know this chapter is a bit longer than usual but I couldn't find a good place to stop it. R&R!
Major-Baby
Margaret sat sullenly in the mess tent wishing she had some news of her husband, Donald. Well she had gotten some news, but it wasn't something that she wanted to hear. She had gone to the 8063rd and overheard a nurse talking about a Donald Penobscott she had been with while in Tokyo. Margaret tried her hardest to brush it off as a coincidence but that was impossible to do. Now tomorrow she would be going back to the 8063rd with Captain Pierce to demonstrate some surgical skills. She wasn't sure if she could make it through the day with that nurse.
Margaret stood up and scrapped her untouched food into the garbage can. She glanced over at the table of officers and nervously approached the newest surgeon, Major Winchester.
"Major, may I speak to you for a moment?" she asked. The Major nodded and turned towards her, but making no move to leave the group. Margaret groaned inwardly, she didn't want everyone else to hear her request. Oh well.
"Major, I noticed you have several classical records." Captains Pierce and Hunnicut looked up at this statement and Margaret continued. "Well I was wondering if it would be possible for me to borrow one of them."
Major Winchester looked at her in surprise; she didn't strike him as someone who enjoyed classical music.
"I usually don't make a habit of loaning my personal belongings out. However, if you would like to remain in my tent to listen to them…" He stopped as Margaret angrily stomped out of the tent. Hawkeye sat for a moment at the table, greatly amused at Charles' confusion, but then he stood up and chased after the head nurse.
"Hey Margaret!" he called loudly.
"You are an inferior officer," she hissed as she turned sharply. "You will address me as Major Houlihan." She commanded coldly.
Hawkeye was beyond the point of irritation with this woman. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders.
"Major Houlihan, ma'm, I have some classical records I was willing to loan you, ma'm. Never mind, I will not bother you any more, ma'm." Each sentence he ended firmly, pronouncing ma'm very strongly. He saluted her and stalked off to his tent.
Margaret snuck guiltily back to her tent, she had acted like a jerk and she knew it.
Early the next morning Margaret headed back to her tent from the showers. She rubbed at her hair once more with the towel and threw it on her cot, it slid onto the floor, and she picked it up in irritation. As she placed it back on her cot, she noticed two objects sitting on her blanket. One was a letter from Donald, and the other was a brown package.
She eagerly opened the package and found three records a note attached to the top one. I decided to let you use these anyway, so long as I can call you Margaret again (yes I know this is blackmail) Careful with them, they have a lot of sentimental value. Love, your favorite scumbag, Hawkeye.
Margaret chuckled to herself; she knew this was Hawkeye's way of telling her there were no hard feelings. She looked at the titles curiously; Swan Lake, The Nutcracker, and Sleeping Beauty. Margaret wondered how Hawkeye came across the three famous ballet works of Tchaikovsky. No matter, it served her purpose well. Margaret longed to play the music but she had to hurry; they were leaving in a half hour.
Margaret opened the letter from Donald and scanned the first few lines before sinking onto her cot in tears.
"Rotten bastard," she mumbled after a few moments. Margaret angrily wiped away her remaining tears, her expression turning to stone.
Margaret skipped joyously off the stage as the curtains fell, throwing herself at her best friend.
"That was amazing, I'm sure it was the best we have ever done!" Margaret squealed. Jessica nodded and they hugged again.
"You and Michael were amazing! I still don't see how you two can pull off the things you do."
Margaret rolled her eyes and playfully punched her friends arm. "You really need to stop your teasing. I am hopelessly in love with David. You do remember David don't you? My fiancé," Margaret sarcastically reminded her.
"Yes, well Michael is hopelessly in love with you too." Margaret sighed and shook her head.
"I know it," she muttered in annoyance. "Come on, let's go get some dinner." Margaret grabbed her friend's hand and they walked to the back of the French playhouse, towards the dressing rooms.
What's bothering you Margaret?" Hawkeye asked kindly. Margaret took another drink of scotch and rolled her eyes.
"Leave me alone Pierce."
"Oh, now you called me Pierce, something really must be wrong." He teased, while getting up and seating himself beside her.
"Well what do you think is wrong?" she shouted. "I'm stuck in this god-forsaken place, in this damn hut, and with you no less! My husband is…" Margaret cut herself off, realizing she was about to go too far.
Hawkeye sighed and looked over at her, a strange look of anger flashing across his face. "What did he do now?"
Margaret looked back at him, studying his face, trying to discern his motives. She shook her head.
"It's nothing." She responded coolly. Hawkeye rolled his eyes and stood up.
"You don't have to be so tough all the time." He said seriously. Margaret poured herself another drink and downed it in one gulp.
She stared into the empty glass and sighed deeply. She got up slowly and walked to her coat, pulling the letter out for him to read.
Hawkeye eagerly grabbed at the letter. At first his expression conveyed confusion, but that quickly turned to anger.
Hawkeye looked up at Margaret as he handed her back the letter. "Bastard," he mumbled. Margaret nodded, trying to avoid his piercing gaze.
An explosion went off just outside the hut and Hawkeye grabbed Margaret around the waist, throwing her onto the ground. Another explosion and Hawkeye pulled himself on top of Margaret, shielding her body from any shrapnel or debris. He could feel her shoulders shaking with sobs.
After a moment, all was quiet and Margaret's fear quickly turned into annoyance and embarrassment.
"You can get off me now Captain," she said coolly. Hawkeye chuckled slightly and Margaret knew instantly that something was wrong.
"What is it?"
"There's…uh… something in my leg." Margaret groaned and dragged herself out from underneath Hawkeye. She instantly saw a rather large piece of wood protruding from his leg. She winced at the sight and looked back at Hawkeye who was trying his hardest to pretend that there was not anything wrong.
"You've got a piece of the ceiling in you leg," she informed him stoically; she looked at his face again and her tone softened. "It has to come out, do you want some morphine?"
She listened carefully for his response, praying he would keep up his stubborn demeanor, anything that would assure her he was alright.
"Nah, I'm fine," Hawkeye responded, he could sense Margaret's fear, although it was the last thing she would admit. Besides, he figured it could not hurt to act brave, maybe he could do such a convincing job he could fool himself.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes I'm sure, now will you get it over with?" Hawkeye was beginning to feel lightheaded. He grimaced as Margaret cautiously pulled the piece of wood out. She grabbed for his medical bag and quickly cleaned and bandaged the wound.
Hawkeye sighed and carefully sat up. Margaret scooted away from him, staring sullenly out the door. There was another explosion and Margaret ducked her head into her knees, constantly reminding herself not to scream.
"Come here Margaret," Hawkeye called gently. Margaret pulled herself to him and he wrapped his arms tightly around her as the explosions increased. As Margaret screamed angrily against the terrifying noise, she begged Hawkeye to hold her closer.
Hawkeye clung to Margaret as if she were his only lifeline. He was terrified and comforting her was the only way he could keep himself from screaming in terror. He pulled her as close to him as humanly possible and still he wished they were closer.
"I don't like being afraid," she sobbed. "It scares me."
"I know, I know," Hawkeye soothed. "I would be a lot braver if I wasn't so scared." Another explosion and dust poured down around them from the roof.
Hawkeye clutched Margaret to him, shielding her from the debris. She screamed in pure, raw terror.
"We're going to die," she wailed.
Hawkeye pulled her head in towards him as boards fell around them. She pulled back slightly and looked into his eyes.
That deep, sincere, intense blue; she had seen it somewhere before, not just the color, that caring, passionate look. It comforted her in a way. Before she knew what she was doing, she leaned towards him and he kissed her softly.