"I'm home," Margaret mumbled as she walked through the door. Peace was far from her grasp, as soon as she walked in the door her baby started wailing. "Scully, can you please help her?"

Scully walked out of the kitchen with his hand stuck in a family-sized chip bag. "What?"

Margaret shot him a glare. "Jack, our child is upstairs crying, and you're eating chips!"

"Ok, ok!" Scully dropped the bag onto the couch and wiped his hands on his pants. "I'll go take care of the kid, then we can have some fun, alright?" He smiled before running upstairs to quiet their newborn.

Margaret plopped down on the couch, and every muscle in her body relaxed. She never wanted to move again.

However, the phone had different plans. Margaret had to scramble to grab it so it wouldn't disturb the hopefully soon-to-be sleeping child upstairs. "Hello?" She knew she sounded irritated, but she also couldn't care less.

"Margaret, it's Hawkeye."

That was all she needed to hear. "Pierce? I haven't talked to you in ages! How have you been?"

"Pretty good. Listen, I can't talk long, but I wanted to tell you the good news. I'm getting married!"

What?

Margaret's heart stopped beating. The breath was sucked from her chest. "You're…you're getting married?"

"Yup. Can you come to the wedding?"

Before Margaret could answer, Scully came downstairs with greasy hands and an obnoxiously happy grin on his face. "Hey, sweetheart. Ready to have some fun?"

The baby started wailing, screaming.

"No, no, everyone get away from me!" Margaret wanted it all to go away, she wanted to all to leave!

"Margaret, we've got wounded!" BJ yelled through her door as he knocked urgently though the door.

Margaret shot up in her cot. "No, we're ok. BJ?!" She burst up and yanked the door open, finding the surgeon looking at her with concerned eyes. "We have wounded?"

BJ nodded. "Yeah, and without Hawk it's gonna be hard." He put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Are you ok?"

She nodded, giving him a small smile. "Yes, just a bad dream." As they ran for triage, Margaret had to amend it. A very, very bad dream.

#

Triage was absolute chaos, everywhere and anywhere. And if you thought that being down one surgeon wouldn't put that much of a dent in speed, you'd be wrong.

"Margaret, get over here!" BJ shouted. Margaret would not want to see this, but she had to. How did this happen?

Margaret ran from one patient to BJ's, but her footsteps stopped when she saw who BJ was bending over.

Scully.

"What-what happened?" Margaret's words came out more as a breath than speech. She ran over to BJ and knelt by the father of her child, who lay unconscious before her.

"Corpsman!" BJ yelled. This wasn't looking good, and BJ knew that. Still, he would try. "Margaret, get into pre-op, we need to operate now."

The way he said 'now' meant 'thirty minutes ago', and Margaret understood that. She nodded, and with one last look at bleeding Scully, ran off to scrub.

Fifteen minutes later, hope was nowhere to be found. "Clamp, clamp!" BJ shouted. Able handed it to him. Potter refused to let Margaret operate on Scully after seeing the way her hands shook and rattled. She protested, but secretly was glad he wouldn't let her.

BJ looked to Kellye. "Pressure?"

Kellye's eyes displayed panic. "50/35, heart rate is dropping fast, we're losing him."

"Come on, come on!" BJ tried everything. He tried more than everything. "Suction."

"Suction."

Margaret looked from her table with Potter. Nothing looked good.

BJ stopped moving. He looked to Kellye again. "Kellye?"

Kellye let go of the breath in her chest. "He's gone. We've lost him."

Margaret turned and left the room.

#

He was gone.

The father of her child was dead.

As for her, sure, Margaret cared for him a lot. She had some very deep, loving feelings for him. Was he her ideal man? No. But he was the father, and now he was gone. He would never hold his child, he would never attend their wedding, it was over before it even started. The stupid, terrible, inhumane war had taken a man's life!

And the last thing they did was fight. They never got to talk over everything. It was over.

Margaret had gone to bed without dinner that night. She couldn't eat. BJ had told her he was sorry multiple times, but she knew it wasn't his fault and told him so. As she replayed the surgery in her mind, from what she saw, he had done everything he could. She knew BJ was a good doctor.

And to make matters worse, Hawkeye wasn't back yet. He was supposed to be back that night, now it was one in the morning, and he wasn't there. He promised not to leave her! What if he never came back? She wouldn't be able to handle it. She might as well check herself in with Sidney if that happened.

"Margaret?" Like a miracle amidst horror, Hawkeye was knocking at her door. She was up so fast she almost tripped over her own foot.

His arms had never felt so comforting.

"Sh, I heard, Margaret. I'm so sorry, I wish I'd been here." He shut the door and held her against his chest, letting her sob freely. He wanted her to stop crying. Why did the war have to do this? She didn't deserve this! She deserved a happy, wonderful, easy life. The war couldn't just leave her alone?

"He's gone, Hawkeye. He's gone. The baby…I can't…"

"Margaret, you've got to breathe, please. Deep breath in and out, alright?"

She tried to breathe as he instructed, and found herself actually doing so. He was like a vent, she could breathe only when she was in his arms. She needed to hold him – needed him like she needed air.

Only after several minutes had gone by could she talk without her voice cracking. "Thank you, Hawkeye. I'm ok now." She was confident that she wouldn't cry again. They were now sitting together on her cot, but she was still very much entwined in his arms.

He looked at her, giving her shoulders a small squeeze. "Are you sure?"

She nodded in a way that she hoped was convincing, or at least enough so that he would believe her. "Yes, you should go back. You were just at the front, you need sleep." She bit back the want for him to stay – for him to keep his arms around her, to hold her close against his chest, to whisper comforting words in her ears. "I'll be ok."

Hawkeye took her hand in his, smiling slightly at the feel of her fingers wrapping immediately around his hand. "I don't want to leave you alone when all this just happened. Are you even going to be able to get to sleep?"

She rolled her eyes, but it was a lie of an action. "Of course, I'm a Major, remember? If I can sleep at the front with shells going off around me, I can sleep in a cot on a calm night." Only after the words left her mouth did she realize that she'd slept next to him that fateful night at the front.

"Margaret, we all need a shoulder sometimes. I've gone on less sleep than this, a round of Mess Tent coffee and a cold shower will wake me up faster than you can put a corporal on report." He knew that he really could use some sleep, but what could he do about it? He wasn't going to leave her on a night like this.

"Captain," Margaret began, shifting out of his embrace slightly. "We both need sleep, that's agreed upon. I will be fine sleeping in here, you can go back to the Swamp!"

"I don't want to leave you alone!"

"Fine, so sleep here!"

"Fine!"

Silence clutched the room and laughed at the companions.

"Are you sure?" Hawkeye spoke first. He had the idea on his mind since they'd begun debating, but wasn't about to bring it up. But now that she had suggested it…it's not like they weren't friends. Good friends. Best friends.

Margaret paused to give herself a moment. She and Hawkeye were really close, and it wasn't like they were going to do anything. It would be perfectly innocent. "Yes," she stated with confidence radiating off of her face. "It's best, we both honestly need sleep, and we'll both get a good night's sleep if we're next to each other."

Seeing that she was all in favor for the idea, Hawkeye gave her his best cunning grin. "Margaret, you have no idea how long I've waited to hear those words."

On instant, after her laughter had found a place in the open air, she reached forward and hugged him. Tightly. Her arms around his neck she whispered, "Thank you, Hawkeye."

Her breath in his ears did something to him he hadn't felt in a long, long time. Admiration? No. Want? Not quite, but close. Love? Impossible. Affection? The closest thing he could think of.

He held her gently in his arms and pressed a warm kiss on her cheek. "No problem. I'll be back after changing into something less presentable."

After she bid him a temporary farewell, he left her to contemplate what exactly she was doing, and how far she would regret it in the morning.

Nothing was going to 'happen', she knew Hawkeye was more than decent enough to not take advantage of her, but sleeping next to someone had a way of pushing the relationship forward – whether it was ready or not. It happened the first time at the aid station, then the hut. Where would they go from here? Where does a relationship go after best friends?

No. It wasn't going to be that. They'd decided, together and separate, that 'they' would not work. They were not meant for each other. They. Were. Just. Not.

But could they?

Before Margaret could answer that question, a knock came at her door. "Come in, Pierce." She laughed. She knew that if he hadn't knocked she would've told him he should've, but she found it…amusing that he'd chosen to.

He walked in in his usual bedtime wear, as she expected. "Oh, and Hawkeye, if this little sleepover leaves this tent I'll break your nose."

Hawkeye put his right hand over his chest and gave her a humorous grin. "I will be nothing but a gentleman."

She smirked and moved over to one side, allowing him the side of the wall. He climbed in with her, and she had to wonder: What in Sam Hill (to quote Colonel Potter) was she doing? Margaret of the beginning of the war never would've done something – never mind, it was that same Margaret who had let this same man sleep next to her when she was afraid. Why did she keep forgetting that?

"Comfy?" he asked. She couldn't tell whether she meant it as a real question or a joke, but she smirked in response either way. "I want you to know this is the best sleepover I've ever had."

They laid down together, both tensing at the immediate closeness. "Good to know." She forced her muscles to relax, and when she did, she found she kind of…liked it. She liked being next to someone she trusted. "Good night, Pierce."

"Night, Margaret." His arms found their way around her waist, hugging her into his chest. She made no move to stop him, instead snuggling deeper into his embrace. The evening was like their relationship: First thrusted together by sadness and desperation for a shoulder, then a flying leap of trust, and now, what was it? It was comfortable. Warm. Trusting.

"Hawkeye?"

"Hm?"

"Move your feet. They're freezing."