In which things become a little more two-sided...
Margaret read and re-read the letter from Donald more times than she'd care to admit. As she'd expected, he'd called her with some questions after the "Dear Hank" letter she'd sent him. She told him about Darlene and how the letters had gotten mixed up, and after three minutes of listening to him try to offer excuses, she'd told him exactly what he could do with her letters from now on. He'd tried to apologize, but she wasn't listening as she hung up the receiver.
Now, he'd written her a lengthy letter (addressed correctly, this time) explaining who Darlene was and how there was nothing more between them now that he was married to Margaret. He wanted to work on their marriage now, and she was the most important person to him. His words were jaded – Margaret knew what he really thought of her from Darlene's letter – but instead of doing what she should have done, she felt herself wanting to forgive him. She'd had so many failed relationships with the wrong men, and she'd thought that had all changed with Donald. But proving once again that the Houlihan luck was in full swing, it seemed she'd chosen another louse.
She heard an enthusiastic holler from the compound and grimaced. The surgeon trade with the 8063rd had seemed like such a good idea at the time. It would give her a chance to work through whatever it was she and Pierce had been doing these past few weeks since their excursion. He infuriated her to no end most of the time, but there were rare occasions when she saw past the jokes and the smiles and the lewd humor. He cared about her – of that she was sure – but she didn't know just what, if anything, he expected from her. He'd told her that night they'd gotten back that they were too different for anything to ever come of them, but something about the look in his eyes hadn't convinced her that he believed it.
And then he'd kissed her. It wasn't like any kiss she'd ever experience before. Most men who pursued her liked to be aggressive, letting her know exactly what they wanted from her; and most of the time she was happy to oblige. But when Hawkeye kissed her he didn't press her, or even use anything more than his lips. It was chaste, like a kiss on the cheek between friends, but filled with so much more meaning. And she wasn't even going to think about that night outside his tent a week ago.
To top off her week, she'd been reacquainted with an old friend. When she'd found out Lorraine Anderson was the nurse the 8063rd had sent, she was ecstatic. But after a few days she realized that Lorraine was still the open, fun-loving girl she'd known. Margaret had changed so much, she'd been surprised Lorraine had recognized her. They'd fought over it, of course, but they'd reconciled just the night before. Margaret was so grateful to finally have a woman to talk to again, she'd be sad in the morning when Lorraine would have to leave. But, Margaret smiled, she'd left some words of wisdom to mull over.
Dupree hollered again, and she growled quietly. Even Pierce in his early days was better than this cretin, she thought as she tucked her letter back into her desk and strode out into the compound. Her jaw dropped when she saw the surgeon riding Sophie bareback. The way BJ and Charles were grinning smugly, Margaret assumed this was part of some cunning plan they'd concocted to keep Dupree from staying for good. She'd heard the rumor that Colonel Potter was going to let the man transfer to the 4077th, and she guessed the two doctors had conspired to ensure their sanity was only assaulted by one crazy surgeon at a time. Hawkeye Pierce was enough for their little camp; they didn't need another lunatic.
The next morning found Margaret sitting in the mess tent with BJ and Charles. She knew her behavior puzzled them; she'd never before invited them for coffee in the middle of the day just because. But Lorraine's words were still ringing in her ears, and it was nice to spend time with people rather than in her lonely tent.
"So, when's Hawk due back?" BJ asked suddenly.
"Haven't you had enough lunacy for one week?" Charles retaliated. "I, for one, am relishing the silence which has been afforded me these few glorious, Pierce-free hours."
"I don't know," Margaret sipped her lukewarm beverage. "With Pierce and Dupree gone, it's awfully quiet." Margaret had a brief flash of what life would have been like here without Pierce's constant humor, pranks, or bouts of insanity. And while it was true she didn't often applaud his methods, his results were astounding. She knew how the war could take a toll on a person, but Pierce's levity and shenanigans often provided just enough of a distraction to keep everyone sane.
Add to that his skill as a surgeon, and Margaret could safely say that Hawkeye was the backbone of the unit; his dedication and perseverance when dealing with patients was probably one of the driving forces behind their phenomenal survival rate. And no one in the camp could deny the professional chemistry between their head nurse and chief surgeon. Their vastly differing styles often resulted in a clashing of heads, but they also complemented each other well. In the operating room, no other team was as flawless, even when they were mad at each other.
But sometime over the course of their time together, he had come to mean something more to her than just a fellow officer. He had become her friend, sometimes despite her efforts to drive him away. In fact, she mused, he was probably the only man who'd ever endured her stubborn and sometimes wrathful attempts to be alone.
"Margaret, you alright?" BJ's kind voice penetrated her thoughts and she shook her head.
"Oh, I'm alright. Just…enjoying the quiet." She glanced out across the compound briefly, then back at her companions. Remembering she'd invited them here to talk, she cleared her throat and tried to think of a subject. "How's Erin?" BJ's face lit up at the mention of his little girl, and Margaret half listened as he regaled them of the child's exploits in California.
Sometime later, when the coffee was too cold to drink and they'd exhausted every topic under the sun, the three of them stood.
"Well this has been absolutely charming, Margaret, but I think I'll retire to the Swamp and relax for a while before Pierce comes back. Adieu." Charles nodded politely and glided off, leaving BJ and Margaret alone in the mess tent.
"Well, I guess Hawk's not due back till this evening, what do you say we go take a stroll through post-op?" He held out his arm for her, and she laughed as she tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow. As they walked across the compound, BJ detoured her around the Swamp once.
"So, what prompted the sudden chat? Not that I mind, mind you," he added quickly.
"But it's not like me," she agreed. "Honestly, Lorraine gave me a lot to think about, not only in how I view myself but how I want others to view me." It was the simplest answer she could give, and it seemed to satisfy him. Like Pierce, BJ was an open, caring guy. But he also understood something Pierce didn't; when not to pry. He opened the post-op door for her and smiled as she preceded him into the building.
Hours later, she sat alone in her tent. BJ had retired to the Swamp to meet Charles' chess challenge, leaving Margaret to either stay in post-op or go to her tent. She'd come a long way since she'd first arrived in Korea, and she no longer felt like she had to micromanage her nurses the way she used to. She offered a wave to Kellye as she left, earning a surprised smile in return.
It was only minutes later she heard the jeep arrive in the compound. She braced herself for the announcement of wounded, but relaxed when she remembered it was probably just Pierce and Bigalow coming back from the 8063rd. Resisting the urge to rush out and greet them, she grabbed a book off her shelf and opened it to the middle. She was only a little shocked when the knock sounded at her door.
"Come in," she stood up and adjusted her uniform. Nurse Bigalow stepped inside and saluted tiredly.
"Lieutenant Bigalow reporting in, Major."
"At ease," Margaret ordered, secretly pleased that her nurse had followed protocol. "How was the trip?"
If the younger woman was shocked at the question she hid it well. "It was enlightening," Bigalow answered, relaxing her stance. Margaret could see how tired she was and made a mental note to ease up on her duties for the next few days. She was still rather uncomfortable talking to her nurses on a personal level, but she could show them she was thinking about them in other ways.
"How was Dr. Pierce?" she put just enough acid in her voice to dissuade any rumors that would undoubtedly surface after asking such a question.
"Same old Dr. Pierce," Bigalow laughed. "Although I'm afraid the other doctors thought he was dull."
"Dull?" Margaret's eyebrows shot up. "How could anyone find Pierce dull? He runs us into the ground around here trying to keep up with him."
Her nurse answered with a shrug and a half-smile. "Apparently the doctor he was replacing is rather…exuberant."
Margaret rubbed her forehead in frustration, remembering her brief dealings with Dupree. "Annoyingly so. I'm just glad Colonel Potter decided not to let him transfer here. We're full up on crazy."
Bigalow laughed at her commanding officer's joke, and gave Margaret a soft smile. "Permission to speak freely, Major?"
"Go ahead."
"I'm glad you're feeling better. Whatever's been bothering you these last few weeks has taken its toll on all of us."
Margaret felt a pang in her chest, but ignored it. Lorraine's words came back to her, but Margaret pushed them back. Now was not the time or place. "Yes, well, I'll let you get settled back in. Is that all?"
"Yes Ma'am," Bigalow snapped to attention, then strode out the door. She was one of those who'd been here since the beginning, and Margaret had elevated her to one of her senior nurses because she had a modest respect for authority and she was good at her job. That, coupled with the fact that she was one of the only ones who would tell Margaret what she really thought, earned her a great deal of esteem from her head nurse.
She heard the faint sound of shouting from the direction of the Swamp, and Margaret guessed BJ was welcoming his friend back in true Swamp-rat fashion. After changing into her nightclothes, she settled back down with her book for the night. To her surprise, another knock came about half an hour later. She shut her book and rose, opening the door just a crack to see who it was.
"Hey Margaret, you're looking stunning this evening."
She rolled her eyes at Pierce's remark and tugged her gown tighter around her. "Pierce, what do you want?"
"I just thought you'd like to give me a proper welcome home," he spread his arms wide and grinned, but it was the look in his eyes that startled her. There just a little too much joviality in them, and he was acting a little too goofy. Something had happened, and he was hiding behind a mask of frivolity – it seemed Hawkeye kept more demons at bay than insanity. He'd dropped his arms as she studied him, and she saw his face change the instant he knew she'd figured him out. Quickly and wordlessly she stepped aside, allowing him to enter her tent in two strides.
Once inside, away from the prying eyes of those who wouldn't understand, she wrapped her arms around his neck and felt him breathe into her hair. He clung tightly to her and while she knew he wouldn't cry – in fact, she couldn't remember ever seeing him cry – she felt better for knowing that sometimes he needed her as much as she needed him.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked quietly when it felt as if they'd stood there long enough. He took a shaky breath and pulled away, letting her sit him down in her desk chair. She perched on the edge of her bed, close enough to offer comfort, but allowing him distance to collect his thoughts. He stared at the wall for a moment, and Margaret thought for a brief second that he was going to skirt around it, make a joke, and leave. Then he took a shaky breath and his head dropped as he leaned forward, elbows on knees.
"Kid had a piece of shrapnel close to his heart. Their CO took him at first, but when it got too tricky they all looked at me. I just…it was so close to his heart." Margaret felt tears welling up in her eyes. Losing a patient was hard on all of them, but Hawkeye took it personally. His personal survival rate was higher even than the camp's average, so it was no surprise when he was made Chief Surgeon. She could probably count on two hands the number of people that had been lost on Pierce's table in the last fifteen months, and she'd bet even money that he remembered every one of their names. She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, trying to tell him without words how sorry she was. But Lorraine's words kept coming back to her, telling her to do more, to let someone in. Knowing that now was not the time to share her own insecurities about her life, she focused instead on the man in front of her.
She grabbed his hand and tugged, ignoring the questioning look in his eyes as he stood next to the bed. She laid down and patted the small space left on the Army issued cot. For a second, she saw Hawkeye surface again, ready to make a lewd comment about sharing a bed. But then the look was gone, and Ben kicked off his boots and lay down next to her.
"I'm not really sure what's happening, but I'm not stupid enough to question it," he told her, wrapping his cold arms around her warm body. She tucked her head under his chin and slipped her right arm over his waist as he tugged her closer.
"Shut up, Pierce, and take what's being offered." Just as his kiss weeks ago had told her he would always be there for her, she was replying in kind. They lay there holding each other, listening to the soft breathing of the only other person in the room.
"It was hard, having them all look at me like I'm some sort of miracle worker," he admitted softly, and she felt his chest rumble as he spoke. "I…" his throat closed over his words, and she felt his Adam's apple bob up and down against her forehead as he swallowed a few times to regain control. "I wanted to save him."
"Of course you did," she replied fiercely, tightening her grip on him, anchoring him as his emotions swirled. She leaned her head back enough to look in his eyes, letting him see the sincerity in her words. "I've never known a more dedicated surgeon. But not even you can save everyone. I know you did absolutely everything you could to save him, and it's not your fault he died." He took a shaky breath, but said nothing to counter her statement. Silence enveloped them then, and nothing was heard except their steady breathing.
"I should go," he whispered after a while. She bit back her protest, knowing he was right even if he wasn't completely back to his normal self. She'd let him in, even for just a moment, and she could see gratitude swirling behind the emotions in his eyes. He slipped from the bed and pulled his boots back on, and she stood to give him the space he probably needed after showing such vulnerability. He almost made it out the door before she laid a hand on his arm, forcing his gaze to hers. The thank you was in his eyes as he quickly exited her tent, and she watched him slink quietly across the camp and into the Swamp.
Next up: "Commander Pierce"