She woke with a gasp when he shook her shoulder. She had been on her way somewhere, through a long corridor that reminded her of the hospital she worked at in Berlin. There had been a voice asking "Are you experienced" over and over, and then it felt like she fell.
She opened her eyes and was disoriented for a second when she couldn't connect the Berlin of her mind to the room she was looking at.
"Hey, Margaret."
The surroundings fell into place. She looked up at him and was greeted with a big grin.
"Made you scream again, didn't I?" He waggled his eyebrows.
She smiled and laid back down against his chest. Her entire body felt boneless.
"You were trying so hard, it seemed like the polite thing to do. Besides, I wasn't the only one."
He chuckled and kissed the top of her head.
"Margaret Houlihan and Benjamin Pierce, making each other scream since 1950. Lately, in much nicer ways than in the beginning."
She blinked the remains of sleep away and propped herself up on her elbow.
"You know, we have to be on our best behavior for a week now."
"I know, I know, no traumatizing the Hunnicutts, we have been over this. I can't wait to see them. Even though I'm still extremely cross they didn't name the new baby after me." He rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Yes, how dare they not name a baby girl 'Benjamin'. "
"What, 'Girl-Benjamin' is a wonderful name! It just rolls off your tongue, it's unique and very memorable."
"I can't argue with you there."
"You know, I can't wait to sit down with Erin and Girl-Benjamin and tell them the story of how their uncle Hawkeye and aunt Margaret met. How their eyes met over a dirty compound, how pretty birds sang, and it was love at first sight."
"Ah, yes, let's fill their heads with lies."
"Okay, how about this." He sat up straighter and leaned against the headboard, cleared his throat, and took a deep, very dramatic breath.
"Once upon a time in a land far, far away there was a wickedly handsome, devastatingly charming, almost frighteningly sexy prince that met a beautiful princess. Sadly, the beautiful princess was temporarily insane, under the spell of an evil wizard with the face of a ferret and the personality of army gruel."
She chuckled and sat up straighter too, wrapping the quilt around her.
"So," she said, "the handsome prince decided to harass the beautiful princess endlessly. Making shower tents come down. Stealing her underwear and running them up the flagpole. Recording private conversations and replaying them for all the kingdom to hear, to only name a few examples. That was, of course, when he wasn't busy trying to persuade any fair maiden that came into arms reach to crawl into his magical bed in which he would promptly relieve them of their maidenhood."
He grinned.
"Oh yes, I'm sure Peg and Beej will be thrilled about that story. Wouldn't it be great, though? If it had been love at first sight?"
"I don't know. I think maybe it had to be hard."
He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.
"And I know exactly what you are going to say, so just can it, Pierce!"
He mimed locking his mouth up and throwing away the key.
"Just... where we started and what we became," she continued, serious now. "The way our perceptions of each other kept changing. I think that needed to happen. The highs, the lows, the blood, the fear. Just standing in the cold together waiting for the mail to arrive, all of that. What we saw and what we did. It couldn't have happened any other way, no matter how much we would have wanted it to. It's like we're each other's witnesses, you know. Through everything."
He looked at her in silence for a while, and her mind started to drift back to the place where it all started. Maybe his did too. Then he leaned forward and kissed her forehead.
"I married smart," he said. "Maybe we would have met anyway, though, even if Mr. Truman hadn't sent us that lovely invitation to Korea. It could have been at a conference or something. I would spot you from across the room during some boring lecture and think 'wow, I need to get much better acquainted with that beautiful princess.' And then, later, you would be sitting at the bar wearing a tiny red dress, fighting off stuffy old doctors with a stick. And I would walk up ever so suave and dazzle you with my wits and good looks, making all the other doctors cry in envy and curse my name to the wind. And we would spend a night of searing passion together up in my room, making everyone within ears reach cry in envy again."
"And then, at the first light of dawn, I would shimmy back into my tiny red dress and sneak out before you woke up, forgetting all about the night of temporary insanity."
She smiled her sweetest smile and winked.
"Classy, very classy. I was gonna buy you breakfast and everything." He pulled her close.
"You know, I think my body was always in love with you, and my head just dragged behind. And I know exactly what you are going to say, so just can it, Houlihan. Now, before we must behave and play perfect hosts, what do you say we go outside and have some coffee down by the boathouse?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed and sat up straighter. She loved the boathouse; it had a perfect nook that kept the wind out and gave you a wonderful view of the ocean. "And you know what, I really think we need to test the quality of that cinnamon coffee cake."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Oh, really, the cinnamon coffee cake? The cinnamon coffee cake we bought yesterday for the guests, the one I couldn't even look at lest you cut my hands off, is that the cinnamon coffee cake to which you are referring?"
"Yes, that's the one." She let her smile grow wide and sweet again. "But you see, now I really want some."
He threw his head back and laughed the big, open-mouthed laugh of his.
"I bow down to Queen Margaret Houlihan-Pierce, the most graceful bender of rules."
He gave her a big, smacking kiss.
"Now, will you please turn away while I get out of bed, I am very indecent."
"Yes, you are."
She watched with a smile as he made a big show of getting out of bed and into some pants while covering himself with a pillow. She sank back in bed and pulled the quilt up around her, heard him hum as he disappeared down the hallway.
She envied him in some ways. Envied the way he was able to shake the dreams off, to make the ghouls go away until they decided to make another appearance. With her, they stayed. The entire day after they had come to pay her a visit, she would feel sticky. Like she carried them around with her, like they clung to her skin.
But maybe it was like that for him too, and he was just better at hiding it.
Sometimes there were red marks on his skin from trying to scratch the ghosts away. He let her put ointment on them most of the time. Sometimes his eyes were dark and his voice low, his speech monosyllabic. Those times, all she could do was wait. Wait for him to return from whatever pit he was caught in.
He did not wait, though, when she was the one caught in the pit of memories. He would talk, joke, and touch until she could scream. So she did. And that felt good. To feel the flame catch fire and burn bright, not just fizzle out. To yell, slam a door, to storm off, it was life, and it was passion. She wasn't proud of herself in those moments, but she needed it. And he knew that. He would wink and open his arms for her when she was ready, and they were in their secret club all over again.
They really were each other's witnesses, for the good and the bad, light and dark.
Maybe the darkness made the light shine so much brighter because shine bright it did.
She yawned, stretched, and turned over on her side, letting her gaze fall on the picture on the nightstand. The two of them down on the beach, her in a light blue dress holding a small bouquet of daisies, him in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves, both of them grinning into the camera.
Such a small affair, just the two of them, Daniel, and the priest.
Her ring sparkled in the first rays of morning sun seeping in through the curtains as she reached out and touched the picture gently with the tip of her finger. They had sent copies of it across the country. From Colonel Potter, who was just Sherman now thank you very much, there had been a woopiedoo over the phone, one that must have echoed through the entire state of Missouri.
BJ had ever so smugly declared he had always known there was something going on between "you two crazy kids" and that they never were as discrete as they thought they were.
Klinger had been stunned and declared the Houlihan/Pierce-marriage the most wonderous thing since Richie Razner crushed the old record at Tony Packos' sausage eating contest, by downing 16 Hungarian hotdogs in just eight minutes.
Charles had sent them a crate with some very nice bottles of wine, and from Margaret's mother came a preprinted congratulations card with her shaky signature and 50 dollars inside.
And maybe somewhere far, far away, someone in a small house with the curtains closed took the picture out to look at every now and then. But then again maybe not.
Her own curtains were billowing gently in the breeze, letting in the early morning light, and from the open window came the scent of the ocean. Sometimes Hawkeye joked and asked if she had married him because he came with a house with a garden and an ocean view. And maybe that was true, a little bit. She lived in a beautiful house by the ocean. A forever home. She wasn't just driving by while wiping away tears anymore, she could step off the porch and feel the grass under her feet. Feel the ground in a world that didn't move and spin anymore.
She would have married Hawkeye even if he lived under a bridge, though. She loved him for the sparkle in his eyes and the sadness that lurked beneath. For his skinny arms that were a home all in themselves, and for his big, cold feet. For his talent and his passion. For the way he would come out to meet her when she came home later than him from work, how he was always so happy to see her. Almost like a dog. She had told him that once, and he had barked happily and spent the evening making dog-related jokes that grew more and more indecent as the hours went by.
And she loved him for Daniel. Sometimes her father-in-law was the only person she could stand. She had let him peek into some of the places her husband wasn't allowed. He called her "my Maggie", and would look at her with a glint in his eyes she had spent her whole life longing for.
He would join them for dinner later, and she looked forward to that.
She looked forward to this day, so very much. To hug BJ and finally meet Peg. Show Erin the mourning dove-nest outside the attic window and smell the head of Girl-Benjamin.
She chuckled to herself, dear lord now she was doing it too.
She stretched again and got out of bed. Pulled on jeans, and the blue angora sweater Hawkeye had given her on their one-month anniversary.
When she walked through the hallway there were no shadows lurking, and coming down the stairs, she could hear Doris Day sing about being bewitched, bothered, and bewildered, Hawkeye's baritone singing along enthusiastically. She could smell cinnamon and coffee.
She smiled and walked into the kitchen on light feet, starting to sing along too.
It was going to be a great day.
Authors note:
That's the end of my story. And I do think they lived happily ever after. It may not be smooth sailing all the time, but with the love and respect they have for each other, it would be worth it.
A big thank you to everyone who have read, liked and commented. It truly means the world to me and I am forever grateful.
