Margie Cutler was every man's best fancy. She was kind, generous and very beautiful. Trapper always imagined her in his arms. It wasn't too hard. He knew that after the boxing game, this prey was in the bag. She wasn't going to let him go because he had won to keep her in camp.

Indeed, it was wonderful to have her chase him around for once. He didn't need to worry about the competition anymore. Margie was all fists when it came down to other men. She even got so annoyed Hawkeye that she kicked him against the basketball pole and left him to moan his manhood. And despite being the best of buddies with Hawkeye when he was drinking, Trapper smiled and thought that his friend finally earned his due.

He looked forward to every date. Even the anticipated night in the Supply Room made Trapper's heart thud. It took him all day to prepare for it. He absconded some good food from the kitchen (if he could call it that). He tipped generous amounts of the still gin into two flasks. He also grabbed some blankets and pillows from Supply and changed the numbers so that some wiseass Army nincompoop decided to be nosy. Nothing was going to stand in his way!

He met Margie outside at the appointed hour and kissed her passionately. With the basket of goodies in hand, he put his other arm around her and they walked together to their spot. Trapper ensured that the coat hanger was on the doorknob and set up their dinner, completed on a crate and with candles to light their circle of comfort. He had to be careful. He didn't want some other surgeon or enlisted guy coming in and spoiling his good time.

Margie was already settled and grabbing the food and drinks. Trapper chided her and set it all up like a gentleman. He waited until she was ready to eat and didn't take a bite or a swig until she did. Then, it was fair game. The two played and dug into each other's plates and flasks. Margie even smashed some creamed corn into Trapper's face. He laughed it off and threw some back.

But there was something off about the whole thing. Trapper swore that it was nerves or maybe the long OR sessions. Margie was a different story and setting off all the warning signs of breaking it off. Sure, she was just as affectionate as before. Something was just on her mind and she was unusual, more distant maybe. That was all.

Margie noticed that he saw her inner discomfort. Eventually, she toned down on the antics and continued her meal in a sullen silence. Trapper did the same, but tried to interject here and there with a joke or two. Margie laughed halfheartedly. He joined her.

But there was no spark!

Trapper was concerned now. He put her fork down loudly. "Margie, sweetie, what's wrong?" he demanded. It was rude and demeaning, but he had to know.

"I don't know what you mean, Trapper," she replied smoothly. The lie was easy and almost passed.

He didn't buy it. "What gives, Margie? We've had a great time. I don't think I've had this much fun –"

"Since your wife and daughters bid you farewell?" Margie threw out viciously.

Trapper was shocked. "Margie, they're in Boston. We're here. This is all that matters."

"Not when you have people waiting for you at home," she insisted. "Your wife expects you to be faithful to your vows. Your daughters want their daddy to come home and to be with their mommy. Not with some woman he met in a foreign country!"

Trapper didn't know what to say now. He had been open with all of the nurses he curried favor with that he was married and had children at home. They did not care. Just as long as it didn't affect them and his wife didn't know about it, they dated him just for fun. Margie seemed to be the first one to object and she had been with him for some weeks now. There was only one possibility that she was saying something now.

"What brought this on?" he finally asked her, to confirm his theory. "You knew about Louise."

"I did not," Margie confessed. It was the truth. "I thought you were a single man, just like Hawkeye."

The truth smacked Trapper in the face, so much so that he moaned. "You're telling me that Hawkeye told you…?"

Margie shook her head. "No. I don't like Hawkeye. He didn't tell me anyway."

"Well, then who did?"

"Ugly John."

"What?!" Trapper was furious. "You mean to tell me that our anesthetist informed you that I was married?!"

"When I don't get a lot of forthcoming information about you, I have to go digging." Margie crossed her arms. She was not fazed by his anger. "Ugly John told me everything. And it didn't take much to bribe Radar. It's all in your files. He told me the truth…unlike you."

"Margie, I thought you knew," Trapper said. He went to his knees in grief, pushing away the angst and sorrow. He was losing this jewel quickly. "I swear, on the lives of my daughters, that I had no idea you were ignorant of my marital state. I never meant to hurt you and my family. Margie? Margie!"

It was a nightmare. Margie did not care for what Trapper had to say anymore. Abruptly, she got up, knocking over their meal and bedding. The gin splattered all over the place. The crate overturned and the contents landed all over the shelves. Trapper had to make sure the candles did not light anything on fire before chasing after Margie. He was desperate.

He stopped her, grabbing her from behind and sinking himself to the ground. "Margie, please. We have something special here."

Margie did the same thing to Trapper as she did to Hawkeye. She turned around and kicked him hard between his legs, knocking him down. She stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Trapper closed his eyes. He was in agony. It wasn't just the physical pain (and that was bad enough). It was mental. Margie had been everything to him. With his wife and children so far away, he thought that he found somebody to confine in and spent time with, to forget the war. He needed that distraction and Margie had been the perfect one. Now, with her so pissed about him being married and with children, Trapper had to question everything he had ever done.

Was it worth it to cheat on his wife? Did it matter how it felt, several thousand miles from home, to be without the woman he originally fell in the love with? Was it enough that he was unable to hold his daughters and to keep them safe? Would he ever see them again?

The inquires rolled in his mind until he woke up. But Trapper was no longer in the Supply Room. He was in the Swamp, sleeping off his drinks. Happy Hour had come and gone and Margie had stayed the night with him. She was curled up with him on his cot. It was a tight fit, but it was well worth it.

Trapper was so happy that it was all a dream. He kissed Margie on the forehead anxiously. The scent of her drove him mad. He began the process all over again, moving his lips from her face down to her neck, arms and shoulders. Before long, he had pulled down her shirt and was kissing her breasts.

Sleepy as she was, she stopped him with a single movement of her own mouth. She silenced the noise, smacking her lips against his, and fell back into her slumbers. Trapper was surprised. Normally, she was all over him. Tonight, she seemed atoned to his feelings and was suggesting sleeping it off, not nibbling.

"Good night," she whispered.

Trapper obeyed her wishes and resumed his original position. "Good night, my love. May you last until I go home."