I went back and forth on this one, then finally decided just to upload it as is. Let me know if there are any mistakes...
"How about I buy a round of drinks for the winning team?" Mulcahy held his winnings aloft. Margaret and BJ grinned and saluted him with their current drinks.
"I still can't believe you bet on us, Father," Margaret said. "We didn't even know we were going to be a team until those two pig-headed buffoons messed up."
"And I still get breakfast in bed," BJ smirked. "Hawk's gonna be sorry he missed this." They all laughed and talked through another round of drinks before calling it a day. It was only mid-afternoon, but BJ wanted to laze the day away in his bunk. He waved goodbye to Margaret and the Father while he sauntered back to his tent for a good sleep.
"If you'll excuse me, Major, I have to write a letter to my sister," Father tipped his hat to her and scampered away, leaving Margaret alone in the compound. As she made her way back to her tent, she saw Klinger bust out of the office and make a beeline for the Colonel's tent.
"Colonel Potter!" he yelled, almost bowling her over. "Excuse me, Major. Colonel Potter!" Margaret stopped in her tracks and shook her head as the clerk's antics succeeded in riling up their commander. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she slowed her pace to hear whatever had made the clerk so frantic. Potter opened his door and poked his head out.
"Klinger, what in the name of Harry Carry are you hollering about?" He was already miffed about losing the bridge tournament, so Klinger's shouting couldn't be improving his mood any.
"Sorry to bellow so unprofessionally, sir, but there's an important call from Seoul regarding Captain Pierce."
"Did he strip to his skivvies and dance around a bar again?" Potter was already rolling his eyes.
"No sir, he never made it there." Margaret felt her heart plummet at his words, and she saw her emotions mirrored in the older man's face.
"Damn. Alright, let's get him found, pronto!" They ran to the office to start the search for their missing surgeon, but Margaret was still frozen to the spot. The trip to Seoul was less than two hours by jeep, and Hawkeye had left well over five hours ago. If he were injured and unable to get aid, there was little chance for him now. He could have been captured as well, she thought, but that didn't settle her nerves any. She made the quick decision not to tell BJ until the Colonel said so, but she wasn't going to just sit around waiting. Making up her mind, she marched into Klinger's office and listened as the Colonel called ICORPS and ordered for a search party.
"I don't give a damn who you get to do it, just get some eyes out there and look for him!" It seemed his attempts weren't getting anywhere, and she stuffed her hands into her pockets to keep from fidgeting.
"Well that's just peachy!" He slammed the receiver down and cursed. "Oh," he jumped at the sight of Margaret so close to him. "Sorry, Major," he shook his head.
"I overheard Klinger in the compound, sir," she explained. "Is he really missing?"
"He missed his appointment with the masseuse, then he didn't show for his lunch reservations. It's been over five hours...but ICORPS won't do anything unless he's officially listed MIA, and we can't do that until after his 24 hour pass expires."
"But sir!" she protested, "It could be too late by then!"
"I know that, Major," he clenched his teeth to keep from snapping at her; he'd seen how close she and Pierce had gotten, and knew she was probably worried.
"Then we'll go look for him," she said. "Klinger, get another jeep ready."
"Ix-nay, Major," Potter shook his head. "ICORPS just released a warning about enemy patrols in the area. No unnecessary travel outside of the safety zone. I'm worried, too, but right now all we can do is wait, then list him missing. From there, the MP's will handle it." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, before waggle a finger. "I'll put in a few phone calls to some well-placed favors, see if I can't get the ball rolling. Until I say so, kids, this doesn't leave the office." He waited until both Margaret and Klinger confirmed his order before stepping into his office.
"Major," Klinger took a step toward her, and she could tell by his tone that this was one of those rare moments when he was being serious. "Look, if it'll help I'll put in a call to Sparky to get the word out. Maybe somebody can start an unofficial search in Seoul."
"Thank you, Klinger, I appreciate it." She left him alone in the office, walking quickly across the camp to sulk in her tent alone. Normally, when her emotions overwhelmed her like this, Pierce would bug her until she told him all about it. But now that he wasn't there, she was at a loss as to what to do.
Even though their relationship was currently between definitions, she felt heartbroken at the thought that Hawkeye Pierce might be forever out of her life, whether he was lying on the side of a road or in the hands of the enemy. She shuddered at the thought of the latter, and briefly wondered just how many enemy patrols were out there right now searching for American soldiers.
The military part of her kept reminding her of the Colonel's orders, that she was above all a soldier and had to be obedient. But there was another voice inside her, one that had been given strength the past few months, and it told her to listen to her heart and do what she thought was right despite orders. She knew what Hawkeye would do if their situations were reversed; he'd be on a jeep and out looking for her the second he left Potter's sight, no matter how many enemy patrols were out there. But her whole life had been structured, military, and she couldn't just throw that part of her away so suddenly; even if the outcome of her actions hurt her. As she entered her tent and sunk down onto her bed, she felt nothing but shame. What if he died and they discovered he could have been saved if someone had gotten to him sooner?
"No," she told herself harshly. "It'll do no good to think like that." There was a chance Hawkeye was right now living it up in Seoul and just didn't make his first few appointments. The odds of Hawkeye Pierce missing a massage, however, were only slightly better than her making it to the moon on a bicycle.
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Hawkeye cursed to himself for the hundredth time that day. This was not at all how he'd pictured his 24 hours of R&R to go. He'd been shot at, captured for a brief time, and his life threatened several times at gun point. He'd performed an emergency tracheotomy on a boy who had worse problems, and he'd buried that boy just minutes later. His arms ached from shoveling dirt with his helmet, and it had taken even the two of them a few hours to dig deep enough for the boy to lie completely underneath the topsoil. The look the soldier had given him when they were done translated better than any foreign words he'd mumbled, and Hawkeye actually laid a hand on the man's arm in comfort before shouldering his bag and setting off toward the jeep.
It still wouldn't start, no matter how many times he tried to crank the key, and he slammed his hand down on the steering wheel in frustration. He could go forward and look for help, leaving his suitcase here in the meantime, or he could try to go back to camp. Deciding that knowing where he'd been was better than not knowing where he was going, he hid his suitcase in the brush nearby and slung the medical bag over his back. Taking a deep breath, he began the long trek back to camp.
A few hours later, he collapsed on a boulder off the side of the road. He was heading the right direction, he had paid attention in scouts, and he was careful to stay off the main road. By a stroke of luck, he managed to dodge an enemy squad patrolling the area, and he felt his heart thundering in his chest as he kept a careful eye out for more North Korean troops.
The sun was beginning to set behind the mountains, and Hawkeye cursed to himself. He'd only driven about twenty or so miles before everything went to hell, and he'd probably traversed about half that distance in the few hours he'd walked. Deciding that finding shelter was probably better than wandering around in the dark, he stood up and brushed himself off.
The sound of a motor had him diving into the nearest bush, and he adjusted his helmet nervously as he watched the bend in the road with fearful eyes. But as the vehicle rounded the corner his face split in a joyful grin. He jumped out in front of the Army jeep with a gleeful shout, not at all discouraged when the two MP's in the back brandished their rifles at him. He held his hands up still grinning as the driver slowed to a stop.
"Halt!" the older one commanded.
"I'm Captain Benjamin Pierce, Chief Surgeon over at MASH 4077th. My jeep stalled out about ten miles that-a-way. You boys wouldn't be able to get me back home would you?" The younger of the two lowered his weapon and jumped down from the vehicle, checking Hawkeye's dog tags and ID.
"We saw your jeep," the driver said. "We thought the North Korean patrols had gotten whoever was driving. You're one lucky duck, Captain."
"Don't I know it," Hawkeye sighed. "So, do I pass muster?" he joked with the young man in front of him, but the MP just stepped back and shouldered his weapon.
"Hop in," he thumbed toward the empty passenger seat, and Hawkeye sent up a prayer of thanks as he scrambled around the jeep and climbed in.
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A knock on her door woke Margaret from her nap. She straightened up and called for whoever it was to enter. Colonel Potter stepped into her tent looking disheartened, and Margaret felt her blood run cold.
"No news yet, Major," he said quietly. "I still haven't told BJ. I don't have the heart to wake him up and give him bad news." The old man chuckled, "Well, that and I don't want him going off half-cocked again on a foolhardy search mission."
"Sir, may I speak freely?" she requested, and he nodded. "Sir, you and I both know Pierce wouldn't have missed his appointment at the masseuse if Korea were falling down around us. He didn't make it to Seoul, and if we wait until tomorrow our chances of finding him are slimmer than they are now." She stood up as she spoke, and her hands twitched nervously as she paced around a small area. Her face was flushed, and the colonel knew that once he left she would most likely cry her eyes out.
"Margaret, I understand your concern. You and BJ are closer to Hawkeye than anyone in this camp. But being in the Army means sometimes we have to do things we disagree with. It's part of wearing the uniform." He sighed heavily, his years evident on his weary face. "Now, I've pulled so many strings you'd think I was opening up a marionette show, but no one has seen or heard from Pierce since he left here this morning. There's nothing else we can do tonight. My best advice to you is to get some rest and we'll hit this thing hard and fresh tomorrow morning." He patted her face lovingly and exited, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
It was well past midnight when the sound of an engine penetrated her dreamless sleep. She jumped out of bed before she realized it was just one jeep, and there had been no announcement of wounded over the PA system. Still, she poked her head out and watched the Army vehicle pull up to the office. She was about to duck back inside and let Klinger deal with whoever it was when the passenger stepped out of his seat. Even silhouetted against the single light over post op, she recognized him immediately.
"Hawkeye," she whispered, running toward him from her doorway. "Hawkeye!" she cried louder, not caring that tears were streaming down her face as she raced across the compound. He turned with a questioning look on his face and had about three seconds before she barreled into him. He took a bracing step back and wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Margaret?" he whispered into her hair. He felt her tears soaking his collar, so he turned her back to the jeep and looked over her shoulder at the three MP's. "Thanks for the lift boys. I'd offer you a bite to eat at the mess tent but that would just be cruel, especially after you saved my neck. I owe you one."
"Don't mention it, Captain," the driver offered a quick salute. "With a reception like that, it's a wonder you don't get lost more often." Hawkeye smirked at the young man and waved with one hand as the jeep drove off into the darkness. Now alone, he turned his attention to Margaret.
"We thought you'd been killed or captured," she offered by way of explanation. She'd managed to compose herself in the short time Hawkeye had thanked his rescuers, so she took a step back from him and wiped her eyes.
"Well, you were right on one count," he told her. Her eyes filled with concern, but he just shook his head as if to say he would tell her later. "Where's Colonel Potter? I guess I should get switched from lost to found."
After another joyful welcome from their commanding officer, Pierce ran through a quick briefing of what had happened since he'd left that morning. He barely mentioned the part about the boy, glossing over it unimportantly, but neither of them missed the haunted look in his eyes as he finished his tale.
"Well son, it sounds like you've been through quite an ordeal. Hopefully we can retrieve your luggage later, but for now I'm just sure glad you're home. I'll phone command and tell them you're back. I'll need you to fill out a report, but that can wait till tomorrow. Get some rest, Pierce." Potter clapped the younger man on the back as Margaret and Hawkeye left his tent.
"We didn't tell anyone," Margaret explained as they walked back toward their tents. "ICORPS wouldn't officially list you missing until tomorrow, and BJ was asleep when Seoul called us and told us you hadn't made it."
"I'm sorry I worried you," he replied as they stopped in front of her tent. He ran a hand down his face tiredly. "God, I'm beat. I'm gonna hit the sack. See you tomorrow, Margaret."
"Ben?" He halted his retreat and turned his head toward her. "Tomorrow…we'll talk, right?" He looked at her for a moment before his shoulders slumped in defeat. She hadn't been fooled by his standoffish attitude; she'd seen how affected he was by his experience. He nodded to her and waved over his shoulder as he crept into the darkened Swamp and collapsed into bed.
Hawkeye slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning as images from the day assaulted his subconscious. He didn't wake up until noon the next morning, and he showered and dressed in a sleepy haze. As he slumped into the mess tent for lunch, BJ and Charles waved him over.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Party Animal of Pusan," Charles gibed. "You rolled in awfully late last night, Pierce. Wild night?" Hawkeye just grunted a response and sat down next to BJ. He sipped his coffee absently as he stabbed at his breakfast.
"Hawk, everything okay? Or did you just have a little too much fun yesterday?" BJ had a sly grin on his face, his mind already filled with thoughts about all the trouble Hawkeye could get into while on R&R.
Margaret sat down on Hawkeye's other side and slipped her hand under the table to squeeze his knee in support. He'd been ready to lash out at BJ and Charles, to tell them exactly how much "fun" he'd had the day before, when he felt her hand on his leg. He relaxed and began to eat in silence, ignoring the strange looks he was getting from his tent mates. Still, they took the hint and dropped the subject, turning instead to comment on the lull they seemed to be having.
When they were all done, BJ tried one more time to get Hawkeye to talk to him. It wasn't like the outgoing doctor to be so quiet, especially after a day off in Seoul. He guessed something had happened the day before that nobody was telling him about, but by the confused looks Charles was sporting, BJ guessed he hadn't been let in on it either. After watching Margaret all but pull Hawkeye into her tent, BJ shook his head and sought out the one man who always knew what was going on: Klinger.
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Margaret and Hawkeye sat shoulder to shoulder on her bed, their backs up against the tent wall. It was a similar position to the night he'd told her about his fear of enclosed spaces, and it seemed as though he was once again drawing strength from her presence. Nothing was said for a while; Hawkeye just leaned his head back and closed his eyes. She took the time to study his features, noting how tight the muscles in his neck were and how creased his brow was. This war was taking its toll on everyone, but the man next to her never seemed to be fazed by anything. Now she realized how wrong she was, and just how strong Hawkeye had been for almost two years.
"Margaret, how much Korean do you know?" His voice pierced the silence, and she actually jumped a little at the sound.
"A little bit. Why?"
His blue eyes were clear as he opened them to look at her. "Because maybe if I knew a little bit, I could have explained to that soldier that we needed to get his boy off the ground and to a hospital."
She turned her body to face his, bending her leg to allow her to sit as close as possible as she grabbed his hand. "No, you can't think like that. You did everything you could to save that boy's life. From the sound of it, he was too far gone by the time you got there."
He tightened the grip on her hand and laid his head back again. "I've never had to bury them before," his voice was thick with emotion. "They die and then they're gone, on to the next."
She wasn't really sure what he wanted her to say or do, so she stayed quiet. Their relationship had been so bewildering lately, mostly due to her trying to put distance between them. He'd somehow managed to breech the walls she'd built around herself after Donald. If she were being truthful – and in the silence of her own tent she allowed herself that much – he'd been inside those walls when she'd erected them. With his persistent nagging and sometimes unwanted compassion he'd shown her that he was different from those that came before, that he cared for her and wanted to be her friend.
But then he'd gone and proved to her that he was just as capable of hurting her, damaging her trust in him. He was the indelible Benjamin Franklin Pierce, a doctor who always put patients before himself. But he'd broken his oath by performing that appendectomy on Colonel Lacy. She remembered the wave of emotions that had assaulted her when she found out: shock, anger, disgust, disappointment. They were all familiar to her, but their source was not. So she dealt with that betrayal the only way she knew how – she shoved him to the outside of her fortress with everyone else.
She knew he cared, hell he probably cared more than anyone she'd ever met, but despite his attempts to get back into her good graces she'd remained resolute in her decision to keep him at arm's length.
But she knew now that was impossible; they had a bond, something indescribable that kept pulling them back together. Now that the sting of that night had died, she could interpret everything more clearly. His snappish attitude in post op, the devastated look in his eyes as he'd asked for her forgiveness, the absolute sadness when she'd refused. She'd driven her feelings for him deep down, but they were bubbling up again as she reminded herself just how heartbroken he'd looked when she ordered him out of her tent.
"Why did you become a doctor?" She asked it so suddenly, she didn't even realize she'd spoken until his head lifted again and he looked at her, probably determining the honesty of the question.
"My dad's a doctor," he said simply, but at her look he realized he wasn't going to get away with the easy answer he'd spouted off all these years. Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his position slightly and turned toward her.
"When I was ten and my mom was in the hospital in Portland, my dad took me to visit her. I knew she was sick, but Dad hadn't told me how serious it was so I just assumed she was getting better." He shook his head bitterly, and continued. "Anyway, I guess the nurses needed to talk to Dad about what was going on, so he sent me to the cafeteria with some money to get something to eat. Of course, being ten and extremely curious, I got lost in about ten seconds." She smiled and briefly wondered what a young Hawkeye Pierce had been like before focusing her attention on him again.
"I had wandered into the trauma wing, where they take the emergencies, you know? I rounded this corner and heard a commotion. I don't remember the specifics, but I knew the man on the table was dying. This doctor just wouldn't give up, though. He kept ordering adrenaline and pounding on this guy for all he was worth just to get his heart started again. He saved that guy's life right in front of me, and I realized it was the same doctor I'd seen in my mom's room. I felt so happy that this man – this hero – was taking care of my mom. I was so sure he'd help her just like he'd saved that man." Margaret felt like crying at the expression on his face, but she remained still for his sake.
"After she was gone, I was so mad. I skipped school and used all my pocket change for a bus ride to Portland General. I found the doctor and just started beating on him. I mean, just yelling and screaming at him for not saving my mom. At some point I started sobbing and he just lifted me up and carried me to his office."
"Your father?"
"Was furious," he chuckled hollowly as he remembered, "but they called him and he drove out there to get me. During the wait, Dr. Hanfield sat me down and explained to me what it meant to be a doctor. He told me that, above all, a doctor's duty was to save lives. But sometimes, he said, letting them go can save them more than hanging on and trying to fix them." He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath. "'Being a doctor isn't glamorous, but it's the most fulfilling, heartbreaking, and rewarding profession in the world.'" he quoted with a smile. "When my dad picked me up I told him I wanted to be a doctor, a surgeon like Dr. Hanfield."
"Ben, you are quite possibly the most remarkable doctor I've ever known," she told him honestly. "And I know our friendship has been strained recently, and I take most of the blame for that." He opened his mouth to interrupt, but she laid a finger over his lips to silence him. "Let me finish. I understand now how hard that decision had to be for you," she didn't elaborate; the pain in his eyes let her know he understood what decision she meant. "But I also realize that I could never have been as strong as you to make that choice. And," she continued after a beat, "I'm glad you came to talk to me today."
"Well," he shrugged, "if we can't talk to each other…" he let his thought trail off. She scooted her body against his and laid her head on his shoulder, trying to offer him some of the comfort she'd denied him all those months ago. Since then, though she had kept her distance, he'd always been willing to listen, to give her advice and a shoulder when she needed it; it was time to return the favor.
Soon enough, his breathing evened out, and she wondered how much sleep he'd gotten the night before. Judging from the weariness in his step and the dark circles under his eyes she guessed not much. She carefully extracted her hand from his and stood up, hoping he wouldn't wake. When he didn't stir, she let out the breath she was holding and gently pushed him down to lie on her bed. She pulled off his boots and covered him up with her spare blanket, perching on the edge just to watch him sleep.
For the first time in her life she was uncertain when it came to a man; she'd always known what she wanted and went for it. But she also knew how to keep her distance, and if anyone got too close she'd either push them away or run. It was how she survived, but not how she wanted to live. As she ran a hand through Hawkeye's prematurely graying hair she knew she wanted to run again, but this time she was going to run toward him. She scribbled a hasty note to let him know about her shift in post op before she switched the light off and shut the door.
Next up: "Father's Day"