Chapter Four
Out of chaos God made a world, and out of high passions comes a people.-Lord Byron

Labor. Worst thing in the world. Margaret thought as she laid in bed, after close to twenty hours in labour. Her back hurt, she was tired, sore, her breasts ached worse than they did when she was pregnant. The only thing that made this day even bearable was the small child sleeping beside her. Only a day old, the little girl looked nothing like her father, except for the eyes, which she opened mere minutes ago, and was now staring at her mother.

"Look at you," Margaret whispered softly, stroking the child's cheek. "Those eyes, they're your Daddy's." The little girl closed her blue eyes with a sigh. "You're sleepy. I am too," she whispered stroking the little girl's cheek again. "But you need a name."

And this is when Margaret wished she grabbed the list of names she had on her night stand, to pick one that suited her little girl. She never thought she'd have to name a human being until she found out of her impending motherhood. She had never understood why it was so hard to give someone a name until today, staring at the little girl who needed to live forever with the name. There was so names she could pick, that would define who the little girl was. Moving to get out of bed, she picked up the little girl, making sure she was still swaddled in her blanket. "Beth? No, you don't seem like a Beth to me. What about Laura, I've always liked the name Laura." Picking up her daughter, Margaret looked down at the little girl, who opened her eyes, she had the same mischievous sparkle as her father, only a day old. "No, you're not a Laura." Blinking a few times, the little girl looked at her mother. "Daisy Allegra Houlihan." Came out of Margaret's mouth without a second thought. "Do you like Daisy? It's something your father would name you. Unique, like him.

"You know, Allegra, that's your Grandma's name. Not Grandma Kate, but your father's mom, you wont get to meet her, she died. I don't know a lot about her, but your father does, maybe one day, he'll tell you of her.

"Your father, he's amazing you know," Margaret continued sitting in the rocking chair that was for the moment in her room instead of the nursery. "I wish you could meet him Daisy," she sighed rocking slowly, as she watched the new born close her eyes and gently fall into sleep, as Margaret whispered stories of the little girl's father.

"Margaret?" a voice said from the doorway as Margaret looked up and saw her mother. Kate and Charlotte had flown in two days ago, just in time for Margaret to go into labour. "She asleep?"

"Yes," Margaret replied softly. "I gave her a name." Kate looked at her daughter as she moved to take the child from her arms.

"And what is this angel's name?"

"Daisy," Margaret replied to the raised eyebrow of her mother. "For her father." With that Kate smiled and understood that there was no reason to ask questions.

"Daisy Houlihan," Kate whispered. "I'm your grandma." Margaret smiled and looked at her mother as she placed the child in the cradle. "Go take a bath sweetheart. Your sister and I'll take care of her if she wakes up."

"Thanks Mom," Margaret whispered touching her mother's shoulder and leaving the bedroom. Kate looked down at her sleeping Grand-daughter.

"Don't tell your mother, but I know that those eyes belong to your Daddy," she whispered. "But you look like your mommy." The little girl sighed and Kate walked out of the room, looking toward Charlotte who was holding Mary-Kate. "How's she?"

"Down. How is the baby?"

"Daisy."

"Daisy?" Charlotte asked with a brow raise, much like her mother. Kate looked at her daughter who nodded. "Daisy sleeping?"

"And Margaret is in the bath," Kate replied. "You should be able to put her down in the nursery."

"She should be fine on the couch," Charlotte smiled moving her daughter so that she was on the couch. "I'll help you with dinner." Standing up she moved into the kitchen with her mother. "Daisy, not something I would think Margaret would name."

"Did you think Margaret would have a baby?" Kate asked looking at her daughter as she started to pull out pots and pans.

"No, come to think of it," Charlotte replied. "Think she'll ever tell him?"

"We can only hope little girl," Kate sighed. "But we need to support your sister in any way she wants to live her life."

"I know mom. Did she tell you she's still having nightmares?"

"I would not doubt it," Kate sighed. "She saw things she shouldn't have."

"I just wish there was more we could do to help her."

"It's not our place Lottie," Kate replied as she saw Margaret walk towards the kitchen. "How was your bath?"

"Nice," Margaret mumbled. "I know I said I didn't want you two to come, but thank you for coming."

"Anytime sweetie," Kate smiled as Charlotte nodded. "How does pork chops sound?"

"Delicious," Margaret laughed leaning back in the chair she was sitting in.

"Daisy still asleep?" Charlotte asked as she moved to set the table, as Margaret nodded.

"Sound. I shouldn't get used to it huh?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," Charlotte chuckled. "Mary-Kate still isn't sleeping through the night."

"Speaking of Mary-Kate," Margaret smiled as the toddler walked into the kitchen rubbing her eyes. "What are you doing up sweetie?"

"Talkin'," the little girl mumbled as she crawled onto Margaret's lap. The woman winced slightly, but accepted, as her arms wrapped around the toddler.

"I'm sorry sweetie. Why don't you go check on your cousin?"

"Baby?" Mary-Kate asked perking her head.

"Yes, Baby Daisy."

"Kay!" The toddler smiled jumping off her aunt's lap and running out of the apartment kitchen. Margaret smiled and watched the little girl. "Think we can skip this infant stage and go straight to toddler?"

"Hold your tongue," Charlotte said suddenly. "Toddlers are worse than infants. Why do you think I have her? Because Richard or the boys could take care of her for a week."

"I'll take your word," Margaret yawned.

As the days past, her mother and sister soon left to return to New York, and Margaret was secretly happy. She needed to prove to herself that she could do this mother thing. So far it was easy, Daisy slept, ate, slept, got bathed, ate, slept and ate. It was a pretty solid routine and she was glad for it. She had smiled for the first time, and Margaret couldn't stop smiling because of it.

She had discovered that her favourite time with Daisy, was alone in the nursery, as she gently rocked while the child suckled from her breast, as Margaret's hand slowly rubbed the little girl's head. It was quiet time, where the phone was ignored. It was just them, and Margaret knew it wouldn't last long, but she'd take it while she could. Because all girls grow up, learn to hate their mother, and rebel. She did the same thing to Kate, and knew Daisy would, and Daisy's children would.

She loved to watch Daisy grow with every day. She responded to her more voice, and began to smile and cry when Margaret wasn't in sight.

She hadn't sent pictures or even told anyone other than her life now, those in her life, no one from the war. She had let letters become few and between, finding it hard to let them go, but she knew she had to, because if she told anyone else, he would find out, and if he was going to find out, it was going to be her way, her time, her ground.

It wasn't like she didn't want him to know, because she loved to have her daughter know her father, because she knew, knew, Hawkeye would be a fantastic father. Would have. Will be. Everything was just so confusing. To the point that Margaret knew what she needed to do, but the act of doing so would tear her apart.

This precious child deserved nothing more than the best, where both her parents loved her, took care of her, raised her. Her mother to come to when a boy broke her heart, her father's shoulder to cry on while he came up with ways to harm the boy in question. She had this fairy tale in her mind, and she knew they didn't happen, especially to her, but maybe, just maybe the fairy tale would happen to Daisy.