After several hours of surgery Hawkeye sat sullenly on his cot, staring into a glass of gin.

"He was too far gone Hawk." BJ assured quietly. "There was nothing more you could have done." Hawkeye only grunted in response as BJ watched his friend worriedly. Hawkeye stood up and walked out of this tent, martini glass still in his hand. Hawkeye walked to the end of the compound and quietly slipped into the darkened officer's club. He wearily sat down and quickly downed his drink. He nearly gagged and in frustration he threw the glass against the wall; the shattering glass echoing the sound of his shattering spirit.

He leaned forward, placing his head into his blood-stained hands, and let out and agonized groan. Three hours earlier Nurse Able had alerted him that Corporal Washington was in bad condition. Now the boy was dead.

His head jerked up as he heard a chair scraping against the floor. He angrily peered into the darkness, searching for the intruder, when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He recognized the soft touch and he sighed and leaned over the table.

"What am I going to tell them?" he asked softly, not really wanting an answer. "How can I tell them that their son is dead; that I killed him?"

"You didn't kill him." Margaret responded sternly as she sat down across from him.

"I missed a damn piece of shrapnel!" he shouted as he stood up and began to pace the room in agitation. "It was right in front of me and I missed it!" Margaret watched silently, not sure how to offer any comfort. Hawkeye leaned his head against the wall and pounded against it with his fist. The face of Matthew's sister was firmly implanted in his mind; her bright smile and bouncing curls. Now she was going to grow up without a brother, because he had been killed by the very surgeon who had saver her life.

"He's dead." Margaret's voice was monotone and it piqued Hawkeye's curiosity and he turned towards her. "They are all dead." Her voice was completely flat and emotionless. Hawkeye walked over to the table; he couldn't see her face but he could hear the emptiness in her voice.

Hawkeye sighed heavily and sat down on the floor, resting his back against the wall. It was completely silent for a moment but the Hawkeye felt something beside him. He wrapped his arms around Margaret's shoulder and she leaned onto him. She said nothing but soon Hawkeye felt warm tears soaking through his shirt. He buried his face in her sweet-smelling hair, tears slowly rolling off of his face.

He tightened his grip on her as if he was drowning. In a way he was drowning, they both were, in their unknown fears.

"What do you miss the most?" Margaret's soft voice was clogged with emotion.

Hawkeye's head rolled forward onto his chest and he exhaled deeply. "I used to walk down to the cliffs right before it stormed. I would climb onto the rocks and stare out at the ocean as the waves broke on the rocks right in front of me."

Hawkeye's voice had taken on a light, dreamy tone and Margaret was enjoying it immensely. In a way it reminded her of her grandfather, when he would read to her before sending her to bed.

"I miss watermelon." She stated simply. Hawkeye snorted cynically and Margaret shrugged his arm away playfully, and leaned forward.

"I mean it. When I was a little girl, my dad would take me on picnics for my birthday. I would get dressed up in my only dress and my mother would make a picnic basket full of sweets; she always packed watermelon." Margaret sighed and smiled in sweet remembrance. "It's one of the few things I remember doing with my dad. Now birthdays just depress me."

"Why?"

Margaret smiled sadly and shrugged. "There are so many things I was sure I'd have in my life by now. Every birthday reminds me of what is still not there."

Hawkeye squeezed her shoulder reassuringly and stood up and Margaret did the same. The moved outside and Hawkeye easily slipped his arm around Margaret's waist, and, to his surprise, she did not pull away. She only looked at him sternly and ordered him to watch your hands.

Hawkeye stopped in front of her tent and held her at arms length. "Do you know the moonlight in you hair makes you look sexy?" he asked playfully.

Margaret glared at him and brushed away his hands. Hawkeye laughed and grabbed her hand again as she was walking inside.

"Permission to hug the Major?" he asked. Margaret smiled brightly at this simple request, mostly because it was so out of character for a womanizer like Pierce.

"Permission granted," she mumbled. Hawkeye pulled her close and gently kissed the top of her head.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"For what?"

"For caring enough to talk to me, even though I'm your sworn enemy." He smiled and Margaret blushed.

"Are we really that bad?"

"Let's hope not." He gave her one final smile, turned, and walked back towards his tent. Margaret stared after him, smiling, knowing that she had a friend, although neither of them would admit it.

Hawkeye smiled to himself as he lay down on his cot. This place was hell but he was glad he was with people he cared for. Frank began to snore loudly in the corner and Hawkeye rolled his eyes. Well he cared for most of them anyway.

Hawkeye forced himself to sit up to pull off his boots, letting them crash loudly on the floor to momentarily wake up Frank, who promptly rolled over and began snoring again.

Hawkeye lay back wearily on his cot and closed his eyes tightly, only to open them a few moments later when a sudden question entered his mind. What was Hot Lips doing in the officer's club in the first place? He thought about it a moment, thinking that she might have come in after him. No, he would have seen the light from outside.

Hawkeye closed his eyes again trying to remember something that would answer his question. His mind slowly drifted to when he had kissed her forehead and the shocked expression on her face. Hawkeye chuckled to himself, rolled over, and tried his best to go to sleep.