This is probably the one everybody's been waiting for...

"If Margaret tells me to cut my hair one more time, I'm going to tie her down and shave her bald." Hawkeye complained to BJ after another dressing down from the head nurse. Her father was due any minute now, and she was currently rounding up her nurses into formation for inspection upon the Colonel's arrival.

"Ah, it's only for a few days, and it'll make her happy. You can part with a few strays," BJ replied as he trimmed his mustache. Hawkeye tossed a few socks into a basket and sighed.

"Fine, but if they scream in pain I'm calling the Geneva Convention." He sat on a chair as BJ turned his scissors on his friend's head. It only took about ten minutes to get their hair in order, but by the time they were done "Howitzer" Al Houlihan was already in the compound.

"Shall we?" Hawkeye stood up and gestured to the door just as Potter walked in.

"Let's go, boys, he's here." Potter took one look at Hawkeye in his bathrobe and BJ in his straw hat and sighed. Some things would never change. "Margaret's gonna have kittens when she sees you two."

"Hey, I shaved and cut my hair. She said nothing about the uniform," Pierce protested. He hated dressing up for brass, even if it was Margaret's father. He had a feeling the man wouldn't like him even if he presented himself in Class A's just because he was a draftee.

"Come on, Hawk," BJ grabbed Hawkeye's sleeve and pulled him out the door, but not before he grabbed his cowboy hat and perched it atop his neatly trimmed head.

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For the first time in her life, Margaret actually felt thankful they had wounded. She was so eager for her father to see her and her nurses in action, she just knew he would be proud of her. She watched with eagle eyes for any discrepancies in her girls, but they were all doing their work perfectly. Unfortunately for her, the doctors began their inane banter just as more wounded arrived. Quickly, she approached Pierce under the guise of tying his surgical gown, but she took the time to berate him for his behavior.

"Just this once, could you conduct yourself with the tiniest trace of professionalism?" she whispered harshly.

"Margaret, will you perch somewhere? Your shoes are beginning to smoke," he retorted. "He's your father, he's not the inspector general." He adjusted his gloves as she cinched the back of his gown closed, coughing when she tugged too hard.

"I ask you to do one crummy thing for me because it really means a lot, and this is what I get." She tied his gown as she hissed in his ear, her voice full of venom. "I don't know why I expected anything from any of you!" He whirled to reply just as hotly, but as she stormed away she crashed into an instrument tray, sending its content clattering to the concrete floor.

"Margaret, take it easy will you? You're a nurse in a china shop." He saw her face beneath her mask go white, and he immediately regretted his words. One look at Al Houlihan's face said it all, and all of OR watched as he turned and strode out the door. Hawkeye heard Margaret sigh and resisted the urge to reach out to her. He knew she would just snap at him, so he bit his tongue and continued with his surgery.

When it was all over, Margaret was the first one out the door. Kellye was startled for a moment – the head nurse was usually the last to leave – but she shook it off quickly and began delegating clean up duties to the corpsman and nurses as the doctors shuffled to the scrub room.

Hawkeye changed as quickly as he could to catch up with Margaret, who had managed to change and storm out the door in record time. He ignored the look from his CO and the smile from BJ as he chased her to her tent.

"Knock knock," he said softly, not at all surprised when there was no answer. "Look, if you don't let me in, I'll stand here all night singing off pitch." The door opened instantly, and he stepped inside quickly. Somehow she had moved back to the other side of the tent and stood with her back to him. He could tell from the rigid way she held herself that she wasn't going to talk to him, so he settled for talking to her.

"Look, I'm sorry for what I said in there. I didn't think my jokes were bad enough to send people streaming to the doors."

"That's all you care about isn't it!" she whirled on him, her face red with fury. "God forbid no one laughs at your jokes. You don't care that my father can't even stand to see me make one mistake, that I embarrassed him today!" She tried to pace it out but found that, with him standing in the middle of her tent, there was no room. So she turned back around, hiding her features from him.

"Margaret, you're over-reacting," he reasoned, taking a step closer. "You don't know for sure that that's why he walked out."

"Yes I do," her voice lowered, admitting defeat. "Do you know what he said when he first got here?" Hawkeye shook his head, and even though she didn't see it she continued. "He inspected my nurses and said 'I guess there's only so much you can do under the circumstances.' I try so hard to please him, to make him proud of me. It's never enough."

"He should be proud of you," he defended adamantly. "You're a damn fine nurse, and a hell of a woman. Margaret," he reached forward and grabbed her shoulders, turning her to face him. "In my entire career as a doctor, I have never worked with a better nurse. You keep the rest of us going – sometimes against our wills – and still manage to keep yourself in absolute perfect form. And if you repeat to anyone this I'll deny it," he added, dropping his voice in mock-secrecy, "but you are my favorite officer in the whole US Army." She smiled a little at the memory his words evoked, and, just like that day long ago upon returning from a hellish stint at Battalion Aid, he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"I think I'm going to go see my father," she said as she stepped away from him. He let her go and nodded.

"That's a good idea," he agreed, watching her pep return as her plan developed.

"Yeah, maybe I'll go get him something to eat on the way."

"Well, he'll have to settle for whatever's in the mess tent," he retorted as he left, throwing her a sly grin. She shot him a mirthful glare in return as he departed, leaving her to figure out just what she was going to say to her father.

She felt only slightly better as she left the VIP tent and returned to her own. Conversation had never been a big part of anything at the Houlihan household. Even dinner had often been a somber occasion, only livening when Margaret or her sister had something exceptional to report from school. Just as she suspected, her father had been upset with her performance in OR, and though he'd accepted her promise that it would never happen again she still felt uneasy about it. The Colonel was being unusually distant, which for him was a great feat, and Margaret was unsure on how to proceed.

She thought about seeing if Hawkeye and BJ were still up, but thought better of it. Her emotions were churning enough with her father here; there was no need to try and figure out her and Pierce on top of it. So she settled down in her bunk with a good book and let her mind wander away from thoughts on her life and into the romance novel she had purchased on her last trip to Seoul.

She drifted off some time later, and therefore missed Pierce's tirade as he and BJ trudged back to the Swamp after a rather unsuccessful attempt to make nice with Colonel Houlihan.

"Can you believe him?" he asked again, raving as his more rational friend just shrugged. "All that spew about disrespecting the uniform," he gestured to his bathrobe and cowboy hat. "What I'm wearing is more American than the green canvas he loves so much."

"Come on, you remember how Margaret and Frank were when I got here, and according to you it was worse than that when you first arrived. I don't know why it surprises you that he doesn't like us." At the mention of Margaret, Hawkeye pulled up short.

"You think we should tell her?"

"No," BJ shook his head and urged his friend into the Swamp. "Howitzer Houlihan had a few too many drinks and it loosened his tongue. Just because he didn't bother hiding his disgust for us is no reason to go running to Margaret."

"She adores him, you know. Worships him, is probably more like it. You should have seen her, Beej. When he walked out of OR, the look on her face…" he ran a hand through is hair. "Let's just say I'm not too fond of him, either."

"Look, we'll get nowhere running in circles. He despises us and we're not too fond of him. Let's just suffer through his presence for Margaret's sake and think about the delicious steak dinner we'll all be enjoying when he leaves." BJ reached up and turned off his light as he settled down on his bed.

"Right," Hawkeye fluffed a pillow and collapsed on his bunk. "Night, Beej."

"Goodnight, Hawkeye."

After being rudely awakened by Klinger – and getting a rude awakening from Margaret – Hawkeye and BJ stood in the showers trying to thaw out an entire cow. Hawkeye was still fuming over the fact that Margaret's father had lied to her, vilifying them in the process. He tried to concentrate on the fact that in a few hours they would be dining on actual steak, but even that thought couldn't distract him.

"Hey Klinger!" he yelled, and the man on sentry duty poked his head in.

"Yes, oh Bringer of Beef?"

"Take over for me, will you?" He stepped away and Klinger stepped up to help BJ hold the cow upright.

"Where are you going?" BJ asked curiously.

"I need to clear the air," he answered, darting out the door before anyone could stop him. He stormed to the VIP tent, but pulled up short when he heard Potter's raised voice floating through the thin walls.

"You mean you'd let Margaret think she's a failure rather than admit you were about to lose your lunch? You'd rather crush her feelings than let on you're human like the rest of us?" Potter's voice only held some of the anger that coursed through Hawkeye at that moment.

"Colonel," Alvin's voice cut in with a scolding tone that Hawkeye guessed worked on the man's daughter. But Colonel Potter was a formidable man himself, and he pushed on indignantly.

"You're so busy being 'Howitzer' Al Houlihan, you can't even let your own daughter know you love her?" Potter was livid now, Hawkeye could hear it in his voice, and he didn't blame him. If it was anyone other than Colonel Potter in there, Hawkeye would storm in and tell Alvin Houlihan just what he thought of him. But the Colonel had a way of getting through to stubborn people. Lots of practice, Hawkeye thought with a sardonic chuckle.

"Listen Colonel," obviously the elder Houlihan realized talking down to the Colonel wasn't going to work, so he switched tack. "You raise your family, and I'll raise mine." Footsteps shuffled closer to the door, and Hawkeye took a step back.

"Look, I figure you're not the kind of man to act the way you did unless something's really eating you." Potter's voice held that sensible lilt that made anyone – even obstinate doctors – listen and take heed. "These days you've got a lot of empty spaces in your life. You don't have your men, and you don't have your woman. But you do have your daughter. I'd say, right now, you're running away from the one person you should be getting close to." With that wisdom, Potter left the tent and almost ran right into Hawkeye.

"Now don't go doing anything stupid, son," Potter warned in a quiet voice. He could tell the younger man was brimming with fury. But Hawkeye drew a deep breath and managed to force his temper back with some effort.

"I'll say my piece and bury the hatchet, for Margaret," he agreed. "But someone has to let him know what he's done to her, and I was there for the breakdown." Remembering Margaret's face as she told him how disappointed her father was with her brought his blood to a boil again.

"Just be gentle with the man, Pierce." Hawkeye shot the man an incredulous look as he walked away, leaving the doctor baffled. Taking a deep breath, he took two long strides forward and knocked on the door.

"Come in." Alvin's voice was gruff, as if he were trying to fight off emotion, and Hawkeye noted amusingly that he and Margaret shared that trait. "Oh, it's you," the contempt was back, but softened by Potter's words still rolling around in his head. Hawkeye switched strategies almost mid-stride as he remembered that the man in front of him was, in fact, a Houlihan. Yelling wasn't the best way to get through to them. Sometimes you had to sweeten the medicine a bit.

"I heard you were leaving, Colonel, and I just wanted to wish you a safe voyage." He held out his hand, waiting for the older man to take it. Finally, after a speculative moment, he did, but Hawkeye didn't let go. Instead, he used the leverage to stare directly into Alvin Houlihan's eyes.

"I understand that you may give very little credence to what I say," Hawkeye said, his voice calm and steady as he stared the older man down. "And I won't pretend to know what raising a child is like. But I care for your daughter a great deal; she's become very important to me – to a lot of people here. And I know she neither wants it nor needs it, but I will protect her from anyone causing her pain."

Al wrenched his hand away from the younger man and snarled. "How dare you accuse me of harming my daughter! I love Margaret more than anything in the world."

"You have a funny way of showing it," Hawkeye shot back, letting some of his anger seep into his words. "All she's tried to do this whole damn visit is please you. She's bent over backward making sure this place was perfect for you, and the best you can muster is 'I guess you can only do so much under the circumstances.' That woman has done nothing but grovel at your feet for damn near thirty years, and you can't even tell her how proud of her you are. Did you know she was in tears after you walked out on her in OR? And for what? Because you got a little queasy!"

"So now we've stooped to eavesdropping," Alvin retorted acidly, but Hawkeye was unfazed by his attempt to change the subject. He'd been dodging Houlihan subject-changes for a while now, and had gotten pretty good at it.

"Did you see how upset she was this morning after you told her you were leaving early?"

Hawkeye was almost frothing at this point, and Al wondered briefly just how deep this young man's relationship with his daughter was. He was touched that Margaret had such ardent friends, and felt relieved to know she would be looked after in his absence. But the military man in him had to address the insubordination at hand, and he drew himself up to his full height.

"I'll remind you, Captain, that I could have you arrested for conduct unbecoming, insubordination, and a boatload of other charges that will have you locked up for a very long time. Doctor or no - Chief Surgeon or no - I will not tolerate any disrespect in my Army." He took a breath and continued even as Hawkeye opened his mouth to protest. "However, I can see that you do care about Margaret. I won't admit to being the most affectionate father – I never had a good role model in that area. But I did my best raising my girls, and I'll be damned if anyone will tell me otherwise. I'll take your words under advisement, Captain, and I'll also ignore the manner in which they were delivered." Hawkeye couldn't be sure if the Colonel was being patronizing or not, but he didn't want to press his luck.

"Colonel, I'll never be regular Army," he replied, "and I may not respect the death and killing, but I am an American and I am proud of my country." He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to gain the Colonel's approval, but the words were out there and he couldn't take them back.

"That's all I can ask, son," Alvin actually smiled and held his hand out. Hawkeye took it in a firm grip, returning the man's half-smile. They stared at one another, each sizing up the other. They shared something in common, and as they released their grips a silent agreement was passed between the men. Whatever their differences, however conflicted their views, they both cared enough for Margaret to set aside those disparities for her sake.

"Goodbye, Colonel."

"Goodbye, Captain. You look after my little soldier, now." Hawkeye just nodded and left, glancing back at the enigmatic man he'd left behind. He shook his thoughts clear and dashed back to the showers to check on their dinner.

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"That was possibly the best steak dinner I've ever had in my entire life." BJ sat back in his seat and patted his too-full stomach.

"Here, here," Potter echoed. "I'm not really sure I can stand," he joked, rising to his feet slowly. He let out an uncomfortable groan as he straightened up. "Pierce, I have to say as far as surprises go, this one is the best yet."

"Well, I couldn't have pulled it off without the aid of my friends…and Charles." There was scattered laughter as Winchester sneered good-naturedly at his bunkmate.

"Pierce, you can be sure I would respond to your barb with acerbic wit, however my mother always taught me to never bite the hand that feeds me."

"Which is probably the only reason Igor is still among the living," BJ added, earning more laughter. Gradually, the mess tent cleared out as the camp went about their daily activities. Hawkeye stood and grabbed his and Margaret's trays, depositing them in the dirty dishes bin without a second thought. She scooted up behind him and kept her voice low so the others wouldn't hear.

"Can we talk?" He shot her a strange look, as if he were deciphering the nature of her request. Finally, he shrugged and cleared his throat.

"Shall we take an evening stroll, milady?" he offered his arm gallantly, and she smiled widely as she slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow. They slipped off toward the back of camp, where there were small trails winding down behind Rosie's. Despite her initial request, Margaret stayed silent for a while enjoying the evening breeze and the sounds of Korean twilight drifting over the wind.

"Komapsumnida," she said finally. "It means 'thank you.' My father left me a note just before he left telling me that he loved me and that he was proud of me." Hawkeye grinned at that and she shook her head. "He also told me what really happened at the Officers' Club. I'm sorry I jumped to conclusions like that. I know you and BJ always come through when I need you to, I was just so frustrated with his attitude and I took it out on you. That was unfair, and I'm sorry." He laid his free hand over the one tucked into his arm and he shook his head.

"I understand, Margaret. Believe me, if my father were here I'd probably be a bit more obnoxious as well."

"More obnoxious than you already are? That's hard to imagine," she gibed, earning her a poke in the ribs. She tried to twist away, but he held her hand tight in his arm and so only succeeded in pulling them both slightly to the left. After a few more moments of silence, Margaret took another deep breath.

"He also told me that you yelled at him." He couldn't tell from her expression if she was upset with him for standing up for her; she was oddly contradictory when it came to chivalry. Sometimes she demanded the gallantry that a gentleman should exhibit, and others she resented being coddled like a damsel in distress.

"I wouldn't call it yelling per se," he decided that ambivalent defense was the best course. "I just told him what I thought about how he was treating you."

"Hawkeye, both you and I know how you get when you're on a rant. No one can say you're not passionate about your beliefs." He thought he felt her squeeze his arm affectionately, but he couldn't tell for sure so he ignored it and let her sort out whatever was on her mind.

"When I was growing up, we were always moving around from place to place. Meeting new people, seeing new countries and getting to know their language and customs – I loved it. Then, as time wore on and I got a little older, I began to understand what I was missing. I would arrive on my first day of school and everyone would already know each other. I had to fight to be accepted, and after a while I stopped trying." Hawkeye listened intently as she detailed her childhood. This was more than she'd ever shared with him and he was going to soak up every word.

"When I was about thirteen, I asked my dad why we had to move around so much. He said that wearing the uniform meant that some sacrifices had to be made. I've sacrificed a lot since I joined the Army – the chance for a safe, fulfilling career in a hospital, the chance to have started a family and live in a home, not just base housing." She took a bracing breath, as if her words were causing her pain. He wanted to tell her that it was alright, that she didn't have to talk if it was this difficult for her, but his curiosity got the better of him and he kept his mouth shut.

"I'm tired of sacrificing my happiness just to please people I've never met. I love the Army, the order and discipline have always been a cornerstone in my life. But now, I think I want more." His heart skipped a couple beats as he tried to decipher her words. Finally, he just voiced his confusion.

"Margaret, I'm not really sure what you're saying here. I mean, I understand what you said, I just…I'm not getting where you're going." She slid in next to him, removing her hand from his arm to wrap it around his waist. Instinctively, his arm slipped over her shoulders, tucking her into his warmth as a chilled breeze danced over them.

"Ben, something's happened to us," she said in a serious tone. "Don't tell me you don't feel it; I've seen it in your eyes." He stopped them in the middle of a dirt trail and turned her to face him.

"I would never deny it, Margaret, if you asked. But you've always seemed to keep me at arm's length when possible, especially recently." A shiver went through her that had nothing to do with the cooling night air and she forced her gaze to meet his.

"I'm tired of running," she admitted. "No matter how fast or how far, I turn around and you're there."

"That's what friends do," he countered glibly, and she canted her head to the side slightly.

"Is that what we are? Friends?"

"At least," he told her. "Whatever else we are, Margaret, we'll always be friends." He didn't know if he was reassuring her or looking for affirmation, but when she acquiesced to his statement he relaxed.

"You know, my father was all set to hate you for being an unpatriotic, undisciplined draftee doctor." The abrupt switch of topic threw him for a moment. "But in his note to me he said he'd never met a finer man."

"Really?" The disbelief was evident in his voice; he was sure the elder Houlihan despised him not only for his flippant attitude but for the way he'd accosted him in his tent.

"You sound surprised," she raised a carefully manicured eyebrow. "He said you two had a talk just before he left." The question was in her tone, and Hawkeye realized that Alvin hadn't detailed that conversation to his daughter. It was up to Hawkeye how much he shared with her.

"He needed to know what he'd done," his tone wasn't apologetic, only informative. "Father or no, Margaret, he had no right to make you think you were a disappointment." She nodded then, telling Hawkeye without words that her father had come clean to her. "Besides," he answered, "I think he needed to know you were happy here, that you had friends who would look out for you. I'm not the only one who talked to him, you know," he said, mainly to get the heat off of him. She had odd reactions to people – especially men – sticking up for her when they were not asked. "Colonel Potter beat me to it."

"Well, he at least was probably more tactful about it," she laughed and resumed her place by his side as they began walking again.

"Where are we going?" he asked, not at all sure he was just talking about their physical destination.

"Wherever this path leads us," she gestured to the road beneath them, but – like his – her words had deeper meaning. Silence reigned then as they made their way leisurely back to camp. Night had fallen, and everyone had settled down for the night. Through the netting of the Swamp, Hawkeye could see BJ composing a letter – probably to Peg – and Charles' music was floating across the compound. As they neared, Hawkeye recognized the soft tune as a favorite of his mother, and he smiled softly as he began to hum along.

They reached Margaret's tent in no time, and she turned to face him with her back against the door. From any angle, it looked as if Hawkeye were just standing obnoxiously close as he always did, but when she raised herself up to kiss him lightly all thought left him. She pulled away before he had a chance to respond, but the look in her eyes mirrored the passion in his own. Both of them knew there was no turning back down the path they'd begun, but they also knew that now was not the time for that particular leap.

They'd come together one desperate night when death seemed so near. But now, standing in front of her tent, both of them realized they had all the time in the world. It would happen eventually, that much they were sure about, but it wouldn't happen tonight. Before he could doubt himself, he flashed her a lopsided grin and stepped away.

"Goodnight, Margaret."

"Goodnight, Ben."

Next up: "Depressing News"