The next night was movie night. Somehow Radar had rounded up "Gone With The Wind" which everyone except Major Winchester was eager to see. "I have no interest in a movie about a war that's been over with for a hundred years," he scoffed. Margaret was careful to sit in the back where she wouldn't be noticed. Sidney had arranged it so that Margaret would be approached by neither of her would be suitors unless it was on her terms so she didn't have to worry about Hawkeye asking her questions she wasn't ready to handle.
Becuase the movie was so long, it would be shown in two parts. As she prepared for bed, she started to think in terms of the movie. Ashley was the one Scarlett longed for becuase she thought he was perfect for her, just like Margaret thought Charles was perfect for her. Scarlett loved Ashley, and would do anything for him. Margaret realized that was very much like her love for anyone that was in the camp. She would do anyting for the nurses and doctors she worked with. Charles wasn't special in that respect. Neither was Hawkeye.
She lay awake as she remembered how they had each proposed. Hawkeye burning with all his passion and fire, and Charles looking for an accessory in the Boston society circles. Each man had meant what he said, and loved her in their own way. Why was it so hard for a woman to know her own heart, and what way she wanted to be loved in? All she knew is that she felt awful when Hawkeye would look at her across the mess tent. He wasn't moping, he didn't act sad or droopy, but his eyes held his pain, and it hurt her to know that she was causing it.
When Part 2 was shown, at the end something clicked. When Scarlett realized she loved Rhett, Margaret sat up with a start. Hawkeye was her Rhett. If she'd quite being so dazzled by what Charles had swung in front of her she would realize that she loved Hawkeye. She almost laughed out loud. She loved him. The minute the movie was over, she stood up to look for him. He was nowhere to be found. She saw him as she glanced through the doors in the operating room. There was a eighteen year old corporal on the table that Margaret knew had had some awful bleeding. This was not the ideal time to discuss. Instead she paced the inside of her tent, putting on her makeup, this time fully aware she was applying mascara. She checking through her window every five minutes to see if he was done yet. Another hour had passed by the time she finally went over to the hospital to investigate. He was gone, all the patients, including the Corporal who was now improving, were settled down for the night, the operating room sterile as usual, and Pre Op was empty.
She ran over to the Swamp, and saw only BJ sitting there darning his socks. Hawkeye couldn't be at the Officer's Club or Rosies. She needed him right now, and sober.
"Hawkeye's over at his spot," B.J said as soon as Margaret stepped into the tent.
"How did you know?" she asked.
"Surgeon's intuition," he joked with a smile.
She ran to the end of the trail that she and Hawkeye had taken that day. There he sat, illuminated by the moonlight, dressed in his usual army garb. "Can I join you?" she asked.
"Free country," he shrugged.
"Hawkeye, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about Winchester right away," she started out.
"Margaret, looking at it from a reasonable prescpective, I don't see where you had the chance. But I don't want to be reasonable. You say you're sorry, but I know what you're about to do. You're about to rip my heart out by telling me you've choosen that Boston snob with the higher rank. Well excuse me for being a humble doctor from a small town, and excuse me for happening to love you. More than he ever will," he yelled.
"Hawkeye, will you shut up?" she demanded. "I choose you," she said, her tone softening.
"Me? Why?" he asked stopping in his tracks.
"Becuase I love you too," she said smiling.
There was no time to think before he scooped her up in his arms kissing her, settling on the ground, still holding her as though he would never let go.
Of course she left the last part out as she told their children the story of how she and their father had finally gotten together. "What happened to the other guy?" their seven year old son, Henry, asked. Margaret affectionately ruffled his black hair, so much like his fathers. Hawkeye told Margaret his son would be a surgeon someday. "With curiousity like that, how can he be anything else?" Hawkeye asked. "He went home to Boston, found a wife, and everyone lived happily ever after," Margaret concluded.