Yeah, I know I took about five years to churn this one out, I am very sorry about that. I really do enjoy writing this piece, but sometimes I get so caught up in the stress of VCE that I forget about it and, as you can see, leave months between updates. I am eternally sorry, anyway I hope that hasn't deterred you from reading and reviewing...

Yeah, I wish I owned them...


Margaret found herself quashing the urge to physically shake herself. Swallowing hard, she untangled her fingers from Hawkeye's and turned slowly towards the kitchen. She ducked inside, Hawkeye's hand on her lower back to lead her in. She smiled openly at the Pierce kitchen. It was exactly how she imagined it would be, as if someone had poured honey over the windows and all of the light was dappled in the sweet syrup. The walls were yellow and warm; the bench top a worn wood with a thin lacquer. She imagined Hawkeye painting the small red and blue flowers that ran around the walls, his mother deftly aiding her small son with the tricky stems and the lush leaves of the vine. A flash of Hawkeye with tears in his eyes and gulping back the sorrow came to her and she felt a wave of guilt wash over her again. The last thing she needed at a time like this was to feel even more guilt towards Hawkeye. Sighing she closed her eyes momentarily, forcing her anxious feelings down.

"Are you alright Margaret?" Hawkeye's concerned eyes swam into view as she opened her eyes, which she was surprised to find were shining with tears.

"Y-yes" she nodded earnestly,

"Hormones" she laughed shakily, hoping the blue eyed doctor would buy her excuse.

"Ah, the troubles of producing a minor" he laughed to himself. Margaret smiled and turned to Daniel, who was standing, bent over the stove top.

"Mr-Daniel, do you need a hand with breakfast? Is there anything I can do-?"

"Never! Margaret, you're a guest. A member of Hawk's 4007th family. From what he's told me, I get the idea he wouldn't have survived without you in Korea. It would be my pleasure to cook you breakfast, anything for Ben's Margaret" Daniel smiled, winking at her cheekily.

"Thanks Dad" Hawkeye groaned and Margaret could swear she saw a blush rising in his cheeks. Benjamin Franklin Pierce blushing, she never thought she'd see the day.

"Well the pancakes are ready, eat up" Daniel urged, motioning towards the food laden kitchen table. Margaret's stomach involuntarily growled loudly, having just been emptied previously. Hawkeye grinned and held a chair out for her.

"Miss Mah-garet" he bowed low,

"Please, do be seated before that lovely belly of yours attempts to eat itself," she rolled her eyes, but complied. Sitting down, she picked up a napkin and place dit across her lap as he took to seat across from her. Before she could serve for herself, he had passed her a plate piled high with pancakes, smothered in maple syrup. Margaret took it gratefully and took and indulgent moment to look into those blue eyes again, something she'd sparsely been doing for fear he'd see right through her and realise why she was really there. Swallowing hard she noticed how much older they seemed than they first did when she'd originally met him in Korea. Back then he had audaciously called her Major Baby, something that had succeeded in boiling her blood. She could've kicked herself for being such a stick in the mud back then, but that was before she had realised that Frank Burns was a colossal cretin and it was long before Hawkeye had succeeded in crashing down her many walls and pulled out the reluctant Margaret Houlihan inside. Hawkeye was one of the few people to meet Margaret Houlihan; many had met Major Houlihan, the cold woman who expected the impossibly impeccable and nothing less. There were also many who had met Hotlips Houlihan, the passionate woman who was desperately searching for the man who could steal her heart, but who only ever found men who wanted to steal her panties. She knew neither of these people were people to be proud of, but for a long time they were a part of her and at times she found herself slipping back into their shoes. She found herself regaining that old glint in her eyes around the nurses she used to work with when she first got stateside and even worse she found that undeniable rush when a powerful General looked her way on the army base. Even when she had remarried Donald she couldn't find a way to curb her lust for clusters and more. Hawkeye Pierce, the one and only man she had even imagined letting into her heart. The one and only man she refused to let do so until she was sure he wouldn't accidentally break it along the way. She couldn't imagine him doing it on purpose, deliberately going out of his way to stomp all over her feelings, but she could envision him falling into old habits and one night, after a long shift, falling into the warm arms of a willing nurse in the on call room instead of coming home to her and their child. He wouldn't mean it and he would try his hardest to make up for what he had done, but Margaret knew that she wouldn't not be able to deal with the pain, it would just be too much, no matter how hard he tried. She pictured him bending down over her broken heart, sutures in one hand and a needle in the other, ready and willing to fix the problem; she was absolutely sure she would flat line though.

Flat lining, she remembered that he had made her flat line once before.


It was one night in Korea, a rather important night actually. The night their child was conceived to be exact. She remembered that night more clearly than anything else that had occurred in her life, she remembered that night more clearly than her wedding night, something she considered laughable now. It had been a regular day at the 4077th; a severe shortage of patients, which came along with a severe shortage of entertainment. She remembered lying on her bed most of the day, acting very unMajorly. She could even remember the headline on the newspaper she was reading, a month-old copy of a Crabapple Cove paper; "Bottomless Gut Garranza Out-Eats The Yearly Sausage-Out: Eddie Garranza asks for more at the annual sausage eating competition," she'd laughed a full five minutes it was so ridiculous.

Hawkeye Pierce had just finished his Post Op duties and was heading back to the Swamp, feeling uncharacteristically restless. He could still smell the disinfectant on his clothes and was almost sure that it was infused into his skin. He was just wondering what he was going to do about his pent up energy when Major M. Houlihan's tent came into view. Smiling devilishly, he changed course from the Swamp to Margaret's tent.

Where Post Op had smelt decidedly sterile and foreboding, Margaret's room had it's own scent, Margaret had her own scent. It was a mix of lavender and something sweet that Hawkeye just couldn't put his finger on. Her door was open slightly and the scent wafted out, just faintly, but enough for someone who had become so accustomed to it to smell. He could smell it in his room too. Implanted in his memory and fresh on his pillow. She'd told him she used lavender to get to sleep at night. This was something she'd found hard to do at first arrived at Korea, not because of noisy bomb droppings or ammunition popping, they were thankfully few and far between around the camp, but rather the almost suffocating silence of the absence of such noises. It was unnerving to say the least and the scent of lavender always seemed to placate her. Hawkeye hated to admit it, but it was that scent that had eased him off the sleep for the past few months as well. A scent that once gone had to be immediately renewed or he found sleep unattainable. Sighing to himself, Hawkeye swung open the door to Margaret's tent. Tripping over a haphazard pile of clothes, he tripped landing with a heavy thump, he roused the woman from a fitful bout of sleep.

"Uhn.." she murmured, sitting up swiftly.

"I'm awake Colonel, I swear!" she cried, her voice thick with sleep. When her gaze fell on the wiry doctor her expression softened,

"Oh, it's you." Hawkeye nodded, not trusting himself to speak and crossed the small room in a few steps, he bent down and swept Margaret up, almost cradling her as he leant her backwards and kissed her. It was a rough kiss, yet there was such a gentle nature behind it, almost soft and needy, that Margaret felt her knees go weak. Reaching blindly behind herself, she pulled at the cord for the tent flaps and they closed with a swift bang. In sequence with the falling flaps, they fell back onto the bed and Hawkeye marveled in how strong the scent was here, thick and heady. Gulping he pulled at her pants, trying to literally rip them off, a hard feat seeing as they were decidedly tight.

"Why do you wear these short things so Goddamn tight?" he choked out.

"Because you like 'em that way" she answered in a husky voice. He couldn't help but smile at her lazy Jersey lilt, only evident when she was exhausted, or desperate to get into his pants.

"Here" she flicked open the belt in a simple movement, then proceeded to slip them off her hips in a wiggling motion, while also removing his belt at the same time. Hawkeye was leaving a trail of hot kisses along her collar bone, softly sucking at the skin and slowly driving his occasional lover crazy. Hawkeye sat back and removed one of his infamous Hawaiian shirts while watching her, she was dressed haphazardly in what appeared to be the only clean regulation t-shirt he owned and his favourite pair of boxer shorts, he'd been wondering where they'd gotten to. She smiled at him as was about to pull him on top of her again, when her record player chose that moment to emit an ear splitting screech. Jumping up, she dived across the room and lifted the needle, placing it down gently again. Soft and sonorous saxophone music was emitted, a soulful sound that oozed sex appeal. Margaret's hips swayed to the beat in an almost hypnotic way, Hawkeye seemed mesmerised. He watched as she made figure eights with those perfectly sculpted curves and bit his lip to keep his tongue from lolling out in raw lust. She was looking particularly alluring, there was something so soft about her, so unabashedly sexy.

"Get!" he growled and she turned to look at him, lying in the bed. He had such a rustic sense about him, so down devilish and lacking more than a few regulation standards, yet she knew she couldn't deny what she felt for him. He was dressed only in the bed sheets now, having crawled in as she saved her record, and from the look in his eyes, she could tell he wanted her equally clothed. Smiling knowingly, she made her way towards the bed and just as she reached him, kneeling on the thin mattress and looking down over him, a chopper whipped overhead.

"Argh!" he cried in frustration, grabbing her by the hips and pulling her on top of him.

"Pierce!" she laughed, pulling away, but he held her steadfast.

"Come on, we've got to go" she shook her head and rolled her eyes at his attempts to lower the boxer shorts.

"Hawkeye!" she pulled back,

"You know I want to do this as much as you do, but if we don't get up there and ready soon, the Colonel drag us in there. As you're not wearing a stitch, I would think you'd want to get something on before that happens-"

"Hawkeye! Get out here!" came the call from outside and Margaret sighed.

"See? Now how am I going to get you out of here without anyone noticing?"

"Yeah, yeah" Hawkeye grumbled, pulling himself up and walking over to her closet. Margaret smiled, stretching back on the bed and enjoying the view.

"Now you wouldn't be checking me over there would you?" he asked, not turning back.

"No, that would be blatantly taking advantage of you, I would never do such a thing" she answered dreadfully truthfully.

"Yeah right" he rolled his eyes, turning to face her as he zipped up his pants.

"Hey, going free are we?" she asked.

"Well, you are wearing my favourite underwear there...been keeping them hostage, huh?" he asked, shrugging.

"Not really, you've got more of your clothes in here then you do in your own bunk" she shrugged. He opened his mouth to oppose this, but remembered that he had just pulled his pants from her closet. He then began to dig through the pile of t-shirts on the floor, looking for a suitably clean one to wear.

"Here, this one" Margaret threw him the Hawaiian shirt,

"It's my favourite" she murmured.

"Hawkeye, get on up here, now!!" came the impatient yell from outside.

"I'm on me way Colonel!" Jayne yelled back,

"But not before I do this" he crossed the room in two lengthy steps and swept Margaret up into his arms. Ducking down, he covered her lips with his and kissed her with so much power and passion that she began to melt in his arms. When she was almost completely limp, resting on the leg he'd pushed between her thighs, he pulled back. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. He stepped back and she lowered herself to sit on the bed.

"Now, that's not fair" she breathed, running her hand over her lips,

"That is not fair"

Later that night they met in more ways than one day, it had resulted in all that was to follow. It was the cause of her remarrying Donald, her fleeing Hawkeye for so long, her spirit and heart dying for some time. She did not blame the child, not in the slightest, he had never met the little being and already she loved him or her, as amazing as it seemed, but it was the conception of this child that had caused the loss of Margaret Jane Houlihan. There were a couple of missing signs posted on her heart, just in case the fiery, passionate woman decided to return one day. She actually missed the person Hawkeye had turned her into and although she was regaining herself inside the old Pierce homestead it wasn't the same, not yet.


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