I know I promised more with HAwkeye, but I've had this chapter written up for a while and I didn't want to edit it. He'll be in the next chapter, I PROMISE!!! Meanwhile, I hope you enjoy the new chapter!
Margaret felt herself growing a bit excited at the prospect of seeing the inside of the home Hawkeye had grown up in. She gazed around at the pine trees surrounding the house. The tall house seemed so much less forbidding than it had that morning.
"Why is there a ramp?" Margaret asked curiously as Daniel pushed her wheelchair inside.
"My wife was in a wheelchair," he replied quickly. We installed ramps in just about every area of the town."
Margaret nodded and surveyed the inside of the house. A few assorted pictures hanging on the wall doubled with the one time fashionable furniture indicated that Mrs. Pierce had had quite nice taste, although the two single men had let the house go to shambles.
In place of a dinning room table there was a large poker table, with half empty bottles of scotch, gin, whiskey and other assorted liquors strewn about. The house was dark; all the blinds were drawn shut and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.
"You still here, John?" Daniel called up the stairs. There was no answer and the old man sighed wearily and sat down on the dusty, worn couch. "The idiot probably went for more booze."
Margaret grunted in response, uncomfortable looking about, wondering why Daniel Pierce had asked her to come back with him.
"I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, hon." He said, standing up suddenly. "I just needed someone to be here with me. I know that seems—"
"I understand," Margaret interrupted. It's harder when you're alone." Daniel nodded appreciatively.
"I need some whiskey, want some?"
"That sounds good." Margaret began to look around the house, trying to figure out the layout. "Where are the stairs?" she asked curiously.
"There aren't any."
"I thought this was a two story house," Margaret commented in surprise.
Daniel chuckled dryly. "It is. My dad built this house. He had always wanted to be an architect so he read one book on the subject and then drew up his own plans for the house. Unfortunately he forgot to put in any stairs. I guess he just never got around to putting any in. Ben wants me to put some in but it seems such a shame to stop the long held tradition of procrastination."
The startled look on Margaret's face rather than the expected smile caused Daniel to rethink his words and then he laughed cynically. "I was talking about him in the present tense, wasn't I?"
Margaret nodded and Daniel walked over to her with the glass. "Sorry about that, I've done it several times in the past few days. People always look at me like I'm crazy."
"I can't believe he's gone," Margaret whispered.
Daniel nodded his eyes completely dry. "Maude, a friend of mine, kept asking my why I refused to cry." The old man sighed and walked back to the couch. Margaret wheeled herself over beside him and watched the sad face intently. "I couldn't cry," he mumbled. "It still seems so unreal. It seems like he's still in Korea and I'm just waiting for him to come home."
Margaret dropped her head down so Daniel wouldn't see the tears forming in her eyes. The door burst open and Margaret looked up at the drunken man who stumbled inside. She couldn't believe her eyes.
"What the hell is she doing here?" the man growled as he slammed the front door shut.
"I asked her to come back with me." Daniel replied evenly. "Go into the kitchen, John. There's some coffee in there. Try and sober up."
Margaret's mouth was still hanging open in shock as the curly headed-man stumbled into the kitchen to do as Daniel ordered.
"You know him as well, don't you?" Daniel asked her softly.
Margaret nodded. "When you said, John, I had no idea that—"
Daniel nodded in understanding. "You knew him as Trapper, am I right?"
"Captain McIntyre," Margaret mumbled to herself, feeling her chest tighten as memories of the two roguish surgeons flew through her mind.
"Wait a minute!" Trapper stumbled back through the doors and stood in front of Margaret, pointing his finger at her accusingly. "I thought you were dead!" he shouted.
Margaret looked at him blankly. "Kellye, she told me you were dead!"
"Nurse Kellye?" Margaret asked, still trying to understand what he was talking about. Why would Kellye tell him she was dead? Why was Kellye even still talking to him?
"No wait," Trapper began to pull at his chin while walking around in a crooked circle. "She said you almost died."
"Shut up, McIntyre." Margaret hissed. She was flushing horribly and she knew Daniel was staring at her intently.
"That's how you ended up in that wheelchair, isn't it?" He laughed drunkenly. "It doesn't seem fair, does it?"
"Stop it," Margaret's voice was gaining intensity and Daniel stood up to try and guide Trapper away.
"I think it's fitting, Danny." Trapper defended himself, pulling out of the old man's grasp and walking back to Margaret in a rage. "He dies and all you have to do is sit in a damn chair."
"That's enough, John."
"Do you know she killed your son?" Trapper shouted, whipping his head around to look at Daniel.
Daniel looked down at Margaret whose face had blanched and was shaking visibly. Trapper turned back to the girl and leaned down and grabbed her shoulders.
"You silly little bitch! You always had to come out first, didn't you? You, you, you! That's all that was ever important! He tried to be your friend and you wouldn't give him a second glance! You always thought you were better than us, didn't you? You killed him! He died helping you, damn it!"
"I didn't!" Margaret screamed at the top of her lungs while shoulders shook violently, as she almost choked on unshed tears. Daniel managed to pull Trapper away from Margaret and pushed him backwards before hitting him squarely in the eye. Trapper stumbled backwards and hit the floor, passing out in a drunken stupor.
Daniel turned back to Margaret who was doubled over and crying bitterly. "I didn't kill him," she sobbed. "I didn't." Daniel felt tears building up in his eyes as he reached for a lock of Margaret's hair, pulling in back behind her ear.
"Of course you didn't," he whispered. Picking up her hand and stroking it gently.
Margaret shook her head fiercely. She tried to stop crying but the effort only brought more tears. All the sadness and fears she had bottled up over the past two weeks came rushing out like water from a broken dam. "But I did," she almost scared herself as she said it. "I did kill him."
Daniel looked at the woman in shock; he had no idea what she was talking about. He had been told that his son had been shot and thrown into a mine-field. He knew the woman before him couldn't have had anything to do with that.
"No you didn't." he argued, trying to understand Margaret's jumbled words.
"If I hadn't been so eager to go along he wouldn't be gone. It's my fault."
"Margaret," Daniel pushed her backwards, in a normal sitting position and he shook her shoulders firmly. "Ben was shot. I know you didn't shoot him so what the hell are you talking about?"
Margaret tried to look at the man before her through her tears. 'He hid me," she sobbed. "This wasn't supposed to happen," she said, looking down at her lap again. "I was supposed to go too. Trapper's right. If I hadn't been there he would have had a place to hide and he would still be alive."
Daniel was barely able to grasp what the young woman was talking about. "You were with him when he was taken?"
Margaret nodded miserably and looked up through her tears and saw the wet trails streaming down the old man's face. "He can't be gone," she sobbed.
Daniel sighed deeply and held the woman close, feeling her tears on his cheek, mixing with his own.