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"I can't believe Potter snuck off in the middle of the night and left you in charge…again!" Charles raved over breakfast the morning after the Colonel's departure. Hawkeye just grinned smugly and shrugged as he sipped the last remnants of his coffee.
"Hey, if you'll recall my previous command was marred by extenuating circumstances. This time, I've got everything under control." He polished off his breakfast as Klinger strolled through the door with a clipboard in hand.
"There you are, oh illustrious Chief-For-Now."
Hawkeye grinned at the clerk as he approached the table. "Ah, here's a loyal subject now. Tell me, peasant, what do you think of my reign so far?" He raised an eyebrow in question, to which Klinger just grinned.
"I have to say, esteemed temporary commander, that you haven't really done anything yet except eat breakfast."
Snorts from the table drew Pierce's attention. He scoffed at them and signed the morning reports.
"There, my first official official act."
"Now, sir, your reign has been short but efficient." Hawkeye bowed in his seat as Klinger left the mess tent, and he turned back to the table with a grin. BJ shook his head and Margaret just stood with a firm glare.
"Just don't screw things up, Pierce," she warned, brandishing her spoon at him. He held his hands up in mock-surrender, but she just rolled her eyes and strode out the door. He played it off, but he knew exactly what she was talking about; the last time he'd been in charge he'd made a royal mess of just about every relationship he had in camp. He'd made amends afterwards, but his friendship with her had been on the brink of dissolving. Now, however, Hawkeye knew exactly what to do.
"Which is what?" BJ asked as Hawkeye voiced his thought.
"Nothing. I'm adopting the Henry Blake approach to command…let others do their jobs and play golf for three days." He grabbed his clubs from the Swamp while BJ gathered the balls, and they set out toward the empty fields behind the camp.
Two days later, however, Hawkeye could feel tensions beginning to rise. No one knew exactly when Colonel Potter was due back, and certain paperwork was starting to back up. Hawkeye couldn't sign it as acting commander, but ICORPS was demanding it anyway. Klinger was being yelled at by officers he hadn't even met, and Hawkeye was getting grief from him for it.
But even with the stress of command, Hawkeye was careful not to take it out on his friends; he didn't need the backlash of his last attempt at command. Thankfully, their routine was interrupted by the arrival of a traveling troupe of children, and their time was occupied with inoculations and babysitting.
"How do you do this daily?" Hawkeye asked the matron of the group as they settled everyone in for the night. She just laughed and tucked two kids in at once.
"You get used to it." Hawkeye shook his head and looked around. Most of the kids were bunked in the thankfully empty post-op, though some were being housed in the VIP tent and spare bunks where they could be found. Margaret was currently tucking in a small boy no older than three, who looked absolutely terrified. Smiling to himself, he stood to go help her but soon realized she didn't need it.
"Come on, kiddo. It's beddie-bye time." Her tone was soft and comforting, and Hawkeye paused to watch her. She had such a maternal instinct about her that amazed him. He'd seen it briefly when the half-Korean baby had made a brief venture into their lives, but it was still a wonder to him when he saw it in action.
She laid a soft hand on the child's forehead, and smiled at him when he stopped fussing. "There you are," she told him. "Close your eyes, get some rest." He didn't speak her language, but her tone must have gotten across because he snuggled down into the blankets and closed his eyes with a small smile on his face. Satisfied that he wouldn't try to escape, Margaret moved to the next bed and covered the already sleeping girl.
The rest of the adults were already making their way out, so Hawkeye switched off the lights. "Goodnight kids," he called out. "Sweet dreams. God knows you deserve them." Margaret was the last one out, and Hawkeye brushed his hand against her arm softly as she passed him, but if she noticed she didn't react.
By the time Colonel Potter rolled in the next day, the doctors were becoming borderline manic trying to keep up with all the children. Betty had managed to settle most of them down into the mess tent for breakfast, but there were still kids running about camp like a playground. When Potter walked over to their table, Hawkeye felt a weight lifting off his shoulders.
"Colonel, welcome back to P.S. 4077. I'm happy to report that things are both hunky and dory." He grabbed a knife and laid it across his arm. "I return your sword of command, sir," he joked. Margaret, however, got right to the point.
"How's your friend in Tokyo, sir?"
"I'm not in a talking mood, Major." He looked weary as he sat down, and Hawkeye watched with concern as the Colonel only barely acknowledged their visitor. Usually he was the model of hospitality, especially where the Red Cross was concerned.
But his blow up over horse meat set the entire senior staff on alert, and they watched him go with apprehensive eyes. Later, after receiving mysterious letters from their beloved commander, worries were even higher. It wasn't until the next day, as the kids were getting their last inoculation, that Margaret began to get flustered.
"Didn't you find any clues?" she asked Klinger, who had been assigned to spy on their commanding officer for any hint as to their meeting later that night. But no one could come up with a reasonable explanation, and Margaret was at her wits' end.
"That does it, I'm gonna talk to him." She turned to walk out when Hawkeye called her back.
"Relax Margaret, you can't be a mother hen to a man old enough to be your father." He knew he'd struck a nerve, but with all the kids around she wasn't going to call him out. Instead, she dropped the subject for the time being. After all the kids were vaccinated, however, Margaret grabbed Pierce by the sleeve and dragged him out of the mess tent.
"What do you think's going on?" she asked. He could tell by her tone and her frantic movements that she was worried. Potter had been like a second father to them all, but Margaret held a special place in her heart for the old man.
"I'm not sure, Margaret, but it's going to do us no good fussing for no reason." He really hadn't meant that to come out as sharply as it had, but he couldn't take it back. He saw her mouth open to respond, but he beat her to it. "That came out wrong, I'm sorry. I just meant that you're going to worry yourself sick over something that might be nothing."
"But it might be something!" she countered.
"If it is, we'll find out tonight. For now, try not to -"
"What? Try not to what, Pierce?" Uh oh, he thought. Her voice was rising and her face was flushing, two sure signs that she was about to explode on him. He steered her behind the mess tent, hoping to contain the blast with minimal casualties. As she raised an accusing finger at him, he briefly wondered if BJ would say something nice at his funeral.
"How can you just stand there and not care about that sweet man? He's hurting, he very well may be dying, and you're not concerned!"
He looked around sharply, hoping no one had overheard, before running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"Okay, that's unfair," he bit back. "Of course I care about Colonel Potter. I just don't want you to make yourself sick with worry until we know there's something to worry about." He tried to convey through his tone that he was concerned about her, but she seemed oblivious.
"Why don't you worry about yourself, Pierce. It seems to be the only thing you're good at!" And she stormed away. He had half a mind to race after her and tell her off, but he knew she probably already regretted her words; her pride was the only thing keeping her from apologizing now. Deciding that living to fight another day was better than a shallow grave beside the latrines, he stalked off in search of something to occupy his time until seven.
Children were always a welcome blessing and distraction for the camp, but everyone knew that the farther way they were, the safer they were going to be. So everyone plastered a smile on their faces as the kids were piled into the bus to be transported to a refugee camp farther south. The only noticeable absence was the Colonel, who had holed himself up in his office listening to old French records. As the bus drove away Hawkeye tried to catch Margaret's eye, but it seemed she was still a little steamed at him and ignored him completely.
"Trouble Hawk?" BJ had noticed Margaret's cold shoulder and clapped his friend on the back.
"Nah, she's just worried about the Colonel." He knew BJ wasn't fooled, but thankfully he played along anyway.
"I know the feeling. What do you say I treat you to a cup of coffee in the mess tent?"
Hawkeye gave him a wry look. "I'd say yes if you could call what they serve here coffee." He followed BJ anyway, thankful for the distraction.
A few hours later, a knock on his tent door pulled him away from his father's latest letter. He looked up, expecting to see Klinger standing there with something for him to sign before he remembered he wasn't in charge anymore. Instead, Margaret was waiting impatiently outside his tent, wringing her hands together with worry.
"Margaret, come inside," he called out, almost laughing at the comical speed with which she opened the door and flew in. "To what do I owe this honor, milady?" She sat down heavily on the bed next to him, her hands still worrying each other frantically. BJ and Charles were out for the evening, so he stowed the letter away for another time and gave his attention to the woman before him. He laid his hand over hers, stilling their movement. "Margaret, what's wrong?" He noted that dusk was falling, and realized that seven o'clock must be approaching quickly.
"What if…" her throat closed over her words. "I just don't think I could take it if…" He knew exactly what she was thinking – the morbid thought had been racing through his mind since Charles mentioned it yesterday. But right now he just shook his head and concentrated on comforting his friend.
"Hey, you can't think like that," he told her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. He was only mildly surprised when she leaned into him.
"Yes, I can. My grandfather did this same thing when he told the family he was…dying. Everyone gathered at his house for a dinner, and he announced it over the salad." Hawkeye would have laughed at the image her words invoked if it weren't so serious. Taking a chance, he dropped a kiss to the side of her head and hugged her closer to him. She didn't react one way or the other, and he tightened his hold on her slightly.
"And then," she continued, "the kids were shuffled off upstairs while the adults talked. My cousin and my sister locked themselves in the bathroom and cried for two hours. I sat in the guest room alone." He knew that was a big fear for her – being alone – but that was a fear he could deal with.
"Look, I can't promise you that what we're gonna hear is good news, or even not bad news. But you're not alone, alright? Me, BJ, Charles, hell most of your nursing staff…we're all here for you. It's okay to lean on us once in a while."
She wiped her eyes and sniffed, her eyes darting around the tent for the first time. "Where are BJ and Charles?"
"BJ's in post op and Charles is in the Officer's Club. You alright?" He knew she was trying to direct attention away from herself, but he also knew her too well to buy it.
"I'll be fine. It's almost six-thirty. We should go round everyone up." She stood up and stepped away from him, and he knew she was closing herself off again.
"Hey," he put as much emotion into his voice as he could muster as he stood and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. "This is me, Margaret. No fronts, remember?" She wiped the last of her tears away and raised her chin, trying to prove to herself more than him that she was strong.
"I'm scared," she admitted, "but you were right earlier. There's no use getting worked up about something I don't even know for certain yet. Whatever it is, we'll deal with it."
"Together?"
She reached up and grabbed his hands, dropping them to rest between their bodies. She looked him in the eyes so he could see the truth of her words.
"Together," she agreed.
Next up: "April Fools"