A/N Hi there. It's been a while since I posted anything and now I'm back with a whole new story.:) I'm still going to continue "In the middle of the night" (as a new story though), but this idea grabbed me suddenly and keeps me hyper for last few days. It's less fun than ItMoN and it will unfold slower but give it a chance.
The story is set during "Comrades in arms".
How may I scare you?
Chapter 1.
Talk is silver
Margaret was fuming. Literally.
Quite frankly, she was almost sure she must be walking around the compound with little steam clouds protruding out of her ears, ever since her big exit from the mess tent some thirty minutes ago.
The thing, that Major Margaret Houlihan hated the most in the world - well, besides the lack of order and discipline, that is- was being made a fool of. And the way Hawkeye Pierce has been acting all the way since morning, had her wound up and feeling immensely and utterly stupid. He behaved like absolutely nothing had happened. Like she imagined the sparks. Like she imagined everything else. Damn it! She most certainly did not imagine those, and it meant that he either was trying to make a fool out of her (she mentally noted to murder him, and dispose of his body later in a manner befitting his crime), or was making a royal ass out of himself. In any case, she was maybe widely known for being aloof, but hardly anyone could accuse her of hiding her negative feelings. No, the jerk may be charming as devil, but he still would be hearing a piece of her annoyed mind, as soon as she'd have the displeasure of seeing him again.
She heard a rapping on the door, and smiled to herself like a cat would over a bowl of cream. This was just too easy, his tapping being all sorts of characteristic and all.
"Come in Captain" she said in a mockingly honey-sweet voice. "You see, I have a lot to say to you." the door he was just opening creaked ominously.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o
Hawkeye was walking towards Margaret's tent, not really happy with what he was about to do. So maybe he's been a complete moron all day long. So maybe Major deserved an apology. It's not like he never did both of these before. Well obviously, he did a lot less of apologizing than acting like a moron, as he's always prided himself in being mean and sneaky. Still, it was not the vision of pleading with her for forgiveness, that worried him the most. It was BJ's question from mere moments ago, that sent him on this quest, and kept his mind mesmerized ever since.
"Are you afraid of her, or of yourself?" BJ had asked.
It was a damn good question, even if he didn't take it well back then. He just erupted with denial filled blabbering, trying to drown out any other thoughts that might want to surface. Like the one that BJ- his current, if not freely chosen bunkmate and best friend- might have been onto something when he blatantly suggested Hawkeye must be caring for Margaret.
The question was, did he really.
He's always thought her very attractive, beautiful even. Strong and funny, with a sense of humor probably matching his, if she actually decided to use or show it. Also, she was full of inbred quirks and behavioral patterns, which he loved provoking her into. These traits truly made teasing her such an enjoyable pastime. Over the years though, he developed kind of a grudging respect for the woman. He guessed that 'friendship' would be the best term for describing what their mutual relationship has become as of late. The safest term, perhaps- if he actually decided to use any term at all.
Still, last night had changed some things and even though he was not exactly sure, as to how exactly, he was no more able to forget it and go back to normal, than he could go back in time, visit Sigmund Freud and then, tell Sidney bunch of 'you-should-have-been-there' kind of stories. Not that he'd like to forget last night, mind you. It just that, this new development needed time to sink in. It turned all he thought he knew upside down, without giving him any of so desperately needed answers. These would have to be found sooner or later, but for now he had to face Margaret's wrath quite empty-headed. Oh boy, that wouldn't be a proverbial piece of cake. How could he get her to go along with the usual 'we're so different, lets just remain friends' speech? The lady was smart and wouldn't buy any bullshit. Nevertheless, just for the sake of maintaining his fragile peace of mind, he'd at least try to pull it of. Maybe his famous women-luck would decide to kick in this time? It never did, with Margaret before, and it was really high time it did.
He knocked at her door and winced hearing her voice. Not good. He had known it wouldn't be easy, but what he just heard didn't bode him well.
"Hello Margaret" he entered greeting her conciliatorily. "Look, I know you're angry, but I just came to apologize-" he started. She shot him a lopsided glance before gracing him with an answer.
"You know, I'm really glad that you came" she was now facing him showing off a seemingly sincere smile.
"You are?" he was considerably unconvinced.
"Yes, Hawkeye. That saves me the trouble of going out to find you" she beamed even more, even more suspiciously. "I figure, that very soon you too will be ve-e-ery glad you came here."
"I will?" he felt his self confidence deflating in the face of this rather petite, but dangerous enemy.
"Of course. Or maybe you'd prefer I tear your head off in public?"
He shrugged showing aloofness he didn't quite embrace.
"Oh, I guess doing that in private is perfectly all right" his voice came out much weaker than he intended.
"Good" she nodded taking in his anxiousness in all it's glory. "I wanted to tell you what I thought of-" she took up angry pacing while he decided, that resting on a nearby chair was a wise thing for him to do. "your absolutely childish behavior this morning!" He was listening meekly, partly because he though he might be deserving some of it, and partly because he felt it would be too dangerous to interrupt.
"I mean, what were you thinking brushing me off like that?!" Ha! He would be unable to answer that one, if she actually required an answer. It seemed though her tirade was on a self-fueled roll. " You were mean, and inconsiderate, and I honestly don't know why I expected any different from you!" Now, that was unfair, and he tried-against his better judgment- to butt in, only to be brutally cut off.
"But Margaret-"
"Silence! I am not finished yet!" fallen out of rhythm as she was for a moment, she returned to pacing vigorously not noticing something Hawkeye already had. The flame from the flickering desk candle, caught on to a pair of stockings ( Black silk, he noticed absentmindedly) hanging on a lopsided string, that ran all the way up to the main tent pole. The pole holding the rest of the laundry on a more horizontal string leading to the door. The pole in front of which Margaret was currently standing and lecturing his ears off.
"And the whole: 'What do you usually say? ' remark, was a low blow, even for you Benjamin!" She threw her hands in the air, and faced him once again, her back turned exactly on the slithering fire. As if in slow motion he could see it getting closer and closer to her hair. Petrified he tried warning her.
"But Margaret, look-"
"Look yourself, Mister! At least for once, do not interrupt me, will you?!" He'd be dead already if the look could kill, but then again so would she be in a matter of seconds, if he didn't do anything. Over her right arm, he saw the ends of her hair catching fire and that triggered him into action. He grabbed a bucket of water standing next to the cot , and poured all of it over Margaret's head.
"Whoa-"she gasped beforehand, and then just stood there trying to catch air like a fish taken out of water.
"Are you OK, Margaret?- he held her and looked at her closer, mostly out of professional reasons of course. When she finally spoke, her voice was hoarse.
"What do you mean, 'am I OK'?! I was perfectly fine before your bucketful of water hit me like a ton of bricks!"
"As usual, no gratitude." He tried going for a lighter tone, but she was still angry like a wet she-cat. A jaguar she-cat.
"Gratitude?! What gratitude? For what? Honestly, I never thought you were one of these people who couldn't listen to someone's unfavorable opinion about themselves without attacking the person physically? What's wrong with you?!" she pushed him, both hands on his chest.
"Margaret!' he held her hands down, and drew her closer "Your hair was on fire, I had to wipe it out!" He looked at her pleadingly.
"My hair or the fire?" she mocked. "If you think that such a blatant lie will get you excused, then you are gravely mistaken." she wrenched herself free and pushed him away. "I think that for one day- if not for a lifetime, I've had just enough of you. So get you chief surgeon ass out of my tent, and go have fun making someone else's life more miserable!"
He would have left her there and then, but as soon as she shot her last venomous blow, hysterical sob shook her body, and she started crying quite uncontrollably.
It seemed she was sometimes too much even for herself. Especially when in shock.
"Shhh" he cooed "C'me here." He beckoned her closer, even though she was still taking small steps back, away from him. "Come on Margaret, I don't bite unasked. It will be all right" he smiled reassuringly and she looked as she'd be considering his words, but as she was doing so, she still withdrew one step further.
Later, whenever any of them was trying to remember how exactly did she manage to trip over the stranded bucket, fall back and hit her head precisely on the metal corner of her cot, be rendered unconscious but still not damage her head irrevocably, they couldn't really explain it but the fact is, that this was exactly what happened.
Hawkeye checked her vitals and even though he was somewhat relieved she was alive after such a stunt, he was still rather worried than glad, when he picked her up and carried to the post-op. BJ who was currently on duty viewed him quizzically, his left brow raised, but helped him to get her into bed without question. It was only after Margaret had been already settled, that he shot him the first, very BJ-like inquiry.
"Was that really necessary? You were only supposed to talk to her, not club her." He quipped.
"I must be loosing my touch" Hawkeye spat ungraciously through clenched teeth.
"Oh no, from what I see-" BJ indicated Margaret's head wound with a nod, " the 'touch' is working just fi-i-i-ne" he drawled unfazed by Hawkeye's lopsided look. "It is just the brain that should go behind it, that is missing"
"Ha ha. Very funny. It was an accident. OK? I'll check her up" BJ did not even attempt to mention, that it was he, who was currently on duty- he knew his stubborn friend all too well. " and you go fetch Radar-" he was interrupted by a timely entrance of a half asleep company clerk, who just happened to stumble through the right door.
"Huh. Strange I thought I was going to the toilet-" he began and then saw the scene.
"Radar!!" the doctors exclaimed in unison.
"I know. I'll wake up Colonel Potter-"
"…Wake up the Colonel!"
"and I'll notify Ltd Colonel Penobscott-"
"…and call her husband immediately!" Radar was out of the doors before they were half through the last sentence.
Hawkeye was already cleaning the wound, and for a while he an BJ worked wordlessly- he cleaning and sewing, BJ handing him needles, threads, antiseptics and bandages.
Any thoughts of tomorrow, of what will happen when she wakes up- if she wakes up- , he pushed those away to the furthest corners of his mind.
He would have to think them one thought at the time, when it came to it.