Okay guys, sorry this took so long to update, but I've been away for a few weeks and I haven't had time to update. I've also been rather lazy…sorry, but this year is my final year of school and it's going to be my hardest, I'm just trying to get in as much rest as possible...which is why I'm writing this at six minutes past one in the morning...
Anyway, more importantly, I'd like to thank you all for reviews, they've been lover-ly. Oh, before I pick up from where I left off, if you have an queries as to why Margaret married Donald Penobscott again, take a gander at my fic 'Lie in the bed she made', it'll explain everything. It's not a vital read, I will touch on her reasons again in this story, but it goes into her frame of mind in much more detail, anyway, I'm going on and on, away with chapter three!
Oh, these characters (except for Margaret's forth coming baby), and consequently MASH, are not mine, so on and so forth...
A wave breaking gently on the far off shore was the unfamiliar sound that roused Margaret Penobscott from her fitful sleep. She rolled over for what seemed like the hundredth time in the otherwise comfortable bed and tried to drown out the rhythmic sounds with her pillow. The strong will to sleep well into the day was out of character for Margaret, but ever since raging hormones and the small child that inhabited her body had taken over, her old movements had ceased. She was a product of her pregnancy.
Tangled in her sheets and buried under a pile of pillows, she did not hear the knock on her door and thus was surprised by the rude awakening. A rough shaking disrupted her mission to sleep once again and, crying out with a half strangled moan she sat up, hair on end and eyes blazing.
"What do you think you are doing?!" she cried.
A sheepish Hawkeye Pierce greeted her, hands clasped behind his back, head down.
"Good morning Miss Mah-garet" he mumbled. Underneath his apologetic nature he was jumping for joy, this was more like the Margaret he knew.
"And how are we this morning? Are we at all interested in the idea of…I'd say brunch by now. As your well attuned nostrils will tell you, there happens to be a lovely plate of bacon and eggs awaiting you below" he bowed low, impersonating a nasally butler.
Margaret seemed to consider it for a moment, even taking a moment to breath in the heady aroma that was rising from the Pierce kitchen, but as soon as the delicious scent reached her nose, she was over come with a bout of morning sickness. Diving past Hawkeye, he only managed to see a streak of blonde hair, she slammed the toilet door quickly before a symphony of wretches filled the corridor.
"Oh, the wonders of pregnancy" Hawkeye said, rather bemused.
///\///\///\///\///\///\///\
As she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, Margaret was hit with the realisation of what was happening. She was in Benjamin Franklin Pierce' house. She has finally done it; she had gained the courage to see him again after all these years…now all she had to do was tell him the foetus growing daily in her womb was actually fathered by his roguishly handsome self.
Another spell of nausea hit her and she sat down heavily on the toilet seat.
"What have you done Margaret Houlihan? What have you done?" Yes, legally speaking, she was no longer Margaret Houlihan, on paper she was to be known as Margaret J. Penobscott. That was the fate she assigned herself to, the marriage she bound herself to, but one that in her heart she had never even considered real. Her union of convenience with one Donald Penobscott was a thinly veiled attempt at doing the proper thing.
Thinking about it now, she had everything that she'd ever dreamed of during her time in Korea. She had her army husband, a Lt. Colonel no less, she had her white washed house with a picket fence, albeit a rickety, dilapidated one and soon she would have her first 1.0 of what she was sure would soon be her 2.5 kids. That is, if she didn't do something to combat that lifestyle and soon. Yes, she had everything she had ever dreamed of, but she had come to realise one thing was missing, a rather vital part of her dream life; one dream husband.
Hawkeye Pierce, one man that was about as far from prime husband material as humanly possible. It was a laugh to say he'd be the perfect lover, let alone the husband, but he was the man Margaret wanted, and this former Major had the slight habit of getting what she wanted. Margaret may have become the mere shadow of herself, as she was sure those around her had noticed, but underneath her careless demeanour and insipid manner, there still beat the heart of a passionate, strong willed woman. The complex woman who had once been turned down by a young Scully, because she was apparently too much to handle, was beating away at the cage that had entombed her, clawing to get out. She wanted Benjamin Franklin Pierce in their child's life and she wasn't taking no as an answer.
The only problem with her take no prisoner's plan was the immense fear that had plagued her since her current husband broke her heart for the first time. Hawkeye was no different from all the others, yes he meant a hell of a lot more, but he was just as well schooled in ripping her heart out and stomping all over it. She'd been hurt once by him before and she wasn't sure if she could handle it again. She remembered their night together in that ramshackle hut, surrounded by enemy troops, the falling shells sounding like one constant roll of thunder. She had fallen into his arms for he first time that night; it wasn't the last, but compared to every other moment they'd shared, that was the one she held closest to her heart.When she loved him that night, she loved him with all the heart she had; newly jilted by Donald at the time, she was seeking warm arms and she thought he was offering her even more. Jumping at the opportunity, she was the first to admit that she may have gone more then a little overboard, but she would also admit it was the last time she wore her heart on her sleeve around him.
Benjamin Franklin Pierce had made it into her pants, something she'd been more then careful to fight against previously, and as soon as the sun had risen, he was jumping away from her outstretched arms. He'd hurt her that day and she was not quick to forget the pain.
Sighing, she breathed in deeply through her nose. The morning sickness had passed for now and a fresh craving for bacon and eggs overtook her body. The baby gave an insistent kick for measure and Margaret smiled, rubbing her hand over her rounded belly.
"Just like your father, stubborn and adamant to the end" she laughed, then stopped suddenly, feeling anxious.
"Whadda ya think kiddo? Should we tell him? Should we let the crazy one know our real story? Or should we just get out of here and head off on our own….because I'm sure as hell not going back to Donald" she murmured.
"Well-?" she prompted, nudging her stomach, the baby kicked back and a loud knock on the door made her jump.
"Margaret? Are you alright in there or has the toilet swallowed you whole?" Hawkeye called from outside, a small measure of concern evident in his voice.
"You're not pulling a Frank Burns and rigging my toilet seat to rise at attention are you?" he quipped as she rolled her eyes.
"No!" she yelled back, standing up and moving towards the door.
"For as long as I knew Frank, I will never understand his wish to militarise latrines" she smiled as she pulled open the door to reveal a clean pressed Hawkeye. He stood before her, all six foot of him, dressed in a navy blue sweater and jeans, a clean pair of sneakers on, resting on hand on the door frame, the other slipped causally in his pocket. It took her a moment to regain her composure at the sight of him and he grinned roguishly at her shock.
"Yes Margaret, I can actually clean and press my own clothes. The Benjamin Pierce you knew in Korea is but a mere, distant memory. I am now officially, re-house trained" he tipped an imaginary hat at her.
"Oh yeah?" she asked, sceptically.
"Yeah. Just wait to you taste my cooking" he countered.
"You cook?" she raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at him.
"Yes, as a matter of fact he does. He was so malnourished when he got home from Korea that I taught him everything he knows just so he would look like his old self again" came an almost identical voice to Hawkeye's. Margaret turned and her gaze fell on a man who looked just like the doctor, only a good twenty five years older. He even had the same grin and sparkle in his eye.
"I'm Daniel Pierce, father of the swamp rat here. I don't believe we've been introduced" he smiled, extending his hand.
Not really a cliff hanger in hindsight, but it'll do as an ending for this chapter. Until next time, adieu my crazy darlings.
