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Hawkeye rocked back and forth on his heels. It had only been ten minutes since his arrival, and he was already sweating. His father had managed to get him a seat at the very front of the courtyard, directly in front of the stage.

At that moment, two women were standing on said stage. One was an official from Khuizherton City; the one responsible for revealing the names that had been chosen. Rather than making one big announcement on live television regarding the two people from 2nd Quarter that had been chosen, the people in charge had decided that an official should go around to each town and city and make the announcement there. It was likely one of the stupidest decisions the government had made.

The other woman was the mayor of Archmouth, Stacy Morris. She looked rather distressed, which was unsurprising. Ever since she became the mayor of Archmouth twelve years ago, she had been obsessed with impressing the government. Whenever the elections came up, she saw an opportunity to show the government just how good the people of Archmouth had it with her as their leader. But, of course, anyone could just look at the statistical data of Archmouth over the past ten years and see that was indeed not true.

Hawkeye tried to ignore the people around him as they pushed and shoved, trying to get the best spots possible. It was obvious to the residents of Archmouth that whoever ended up in the back would have it rough if they were chosen. Although Archmouth was not a large town by any means, the population was still great enough to extend the crowd back pretty far. Having to walk through the entire crowd, with all eyes on them, would not be an easy thing.

After what felt like an eternity, the mayor of Archmouth stepped up to the microphone.

"Hello, residents of Archmouth, and welcome to the annual election ceremony! We are joined today by Ms. Kelly Oyheidn, an official from Khuizherton City. She will be the one to announce the two 2nd Quarter residents that have the honor of calling themselves this year's candidates!"

She began to applaud enthusiastically, clearly expecting a response from the crowd. When she got none, she cleared her throat and stepped back. Ms. Oyheidn stepped forward to take her place. The scowl on her face was enough to make Hawkeye instantly dislike her.

"Good evening, Archmouth," she began. Her voice was tight but raspy. "I have been given the distinct honor of announcing this year's 2nd Quarter candidates." She pulled an envelope out of her jacket and showed it to the crowd. "In this envelope, the names of the two candidates wait to be revealed."

Hawkeye's teeth clamped down on the tip of his tongue. He winced from the pain, but did not release his jaw. It helped to have a channel for the worry that was gnawing at his belly.

She ripped open the envelope.

Everyone caught their breath.

She unfolded a piece of paper and scanned it, a smile crossing her face. Not good.

"Ladies first," she said.

Hawkeye's nails bit into his palms. Just once he wished that the gentlemen could be first. He just wanted this over with.

He found his eyes drifting across the crowd and coming to rest on Peg. She and her family were standing several rows to his right. Peg's face was pale as paper, BJ's arms wrapped tightly around her. Hawkeye prayed for the best but expected the worst.

"Margaret Houlihan."

Hawkeye let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the female candidate was announced. Surprisingly, she was from Archmouth. Usually, the candidates were drawn from the towns and cities with much larger populations. Hawkeye felt relief swamp him as realized the reason for the woman's joy as she read the piece of paper. She was pleased because the female candidate just so happened to be in Archmouth. That meant that Hawkeye - and the other gentlemen of Archmouth - were safe. It had been years since both the male and female candidates had come from the same town.

Immediately, Hawkeye let his thoughts wander. He found himself snickering as he thought about Donald Penobscott, the snotty soldier that was engaged to Margaret. How fitting it was that they were going to have to cancel their ceremony. Hawkeye wondered who the unlucky man charged with marrying Margaret would be. Whoever he was, Hawkeye felt a pang of sympathy for him. Margaret was a sharp-tongued, no-nonsense person; the exact opposite of Hawkeye. He could just barely see her through the mob of people. She was holding on tight to the hands of her husband-to-be, looking extremely distressed. He kissed her cheek before stepping back, allowing the soldiers to usher him back into the crowd. With obvious reluctance, Margaret stepped up onto the stage.

Ms. Oyheidn put her hand on Margaret's shoulder. "Well! It's been quite some time since a candidate rose from the dwellings of this tiny town. How do you feel, Ms. Houlihan?" She held the microphone up to her mouth.

"I, um, well..." She lapsed into silence. Ms. Oyheidn pursed her lips before taking the microphone away.

"The quiet type, I see," she chuckled. "Well then, allow me to announce the name of your new fiancee, darling." She cleared her throat and lifted the paper up to her line of sight.

Hawkeye looked in BJ's general direction. He was hugging his wife tightly, tears streaming down his face. His little daughter laughed gaily, while Peg hung on to them all. A wide grin had plastered itself across her face- the greatest sight of all. She'd get to go through another year with her family. Have her son without having to raise him with another man. That would have been the worst punishment of all.

He managed to meet BJ's eyes from across the crowd. His old friend's eyes danced with a glorious light, his white teeth flashing against his pale complexion. He then moved from Peg to Erin, scooping her up into his arms. She wrapped her own tiny little ones around his neck, burying her face in his chest. Hawkeye laughed, finally letting go of the worry that had been consuming him for so long.

"Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

Hawkeye jumped as he heard his full name spoken. His head whipped around, looking for the person who had called it out. He was just about to call out to the person when someone gave him a shove.

"Get up there!"

Hawkeye looked at the man for a moment, confused. Then, realization dawned on him.

His name had come from somewhere up on stage. Spoken through a microphone. Through the lips of a woman who called herself Ms. Oyheidn. She had said his name, and now he was expected to go up there and stand next to her and that- that mongrel.

He shook his head, horrified. "No. No, no, no, no. There must be some mistake. I-"

He was abruptly cut off as two men in white came forward and grabbed him. Soldiers.

Yelping, the doctor struggled to free himself from their grip. He kicked and screamed as they dragged him up to the stage.

"No, dammit! No, no! Let me go! This is all a mistake! Let. Me. Go!"

The soldiers held him in place on the stage. Despite their continuously-tightening grips, Hawkeye continued to struggle. As he fought, Ms. Oyheidn laughed nervously and spoke into the mic.

"And there we have it! The candidates for this year's election! Can I get a round of applause for your future leaders?"

A soft, hesitant round of applause rose up from the crowd. Everyone exchanged looks of uncertainty, as if they couldn't believe that both 2nd Quarter candidates had come from the same town.

Through his haze of anger, Hawkeye spotted his father. Daniel Pierce looked at his son with a mixture of pity and sadness. Desperate, the junior Pierce called out to him.

"Dad! Dad, please! Tell these guys to lay off! Tell them that this was a mistake! That Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce is a surgeon, not a world leader! Tell them-"

He was cut off as a rifle slammed into the back of his head, knocking him out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A cool cloth was the first sensation Hawkeye felt. The world came to in a storm of dizzying blackness. He groaned, his eyes refusing to open. His other senses began to swim into focus ahead of his sight, giving him the information he needed.

He was lying on some sort of couch or bed, his head against a pillow. The coolness of the cloth against his forehead sank into him, providing his aching head relief. The taste of metal hung in his mouth like a cloud, threatening to choke him. He coughed against it, the noise ending in a rather unattractive sputtering sound. A strong ringing presented itself in his ears, bringing forth the thought of a possible concussion. That thought was immediately repressed, however, by a sudden wave of sleepiness. His jaws wrenched themselves open in a yawn. His mouth was beginning to close when he felt the edge of a glass against his lips, some kind of liquid trickling past.

He coughed, his body not liking the sudden intrusion. The liquid tried again, this time successfully making it past. The liquid was warm and bubbly, and sent his stomach spiraling into waves of euphoria as it entered. He let out a sigh, the liquid being enough to push him back into the confines of unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hawkeye sat bolt upright, nearly whacking his head on the ceiling above. He looked around wildly, only to realize that he was no longer in the dream world. He fell back on to the bed, sighing.

He had dreamed of standing on that cursed stage. His hands were bound and he was gagged. All around him, his friends and family stood laughing and pointing at him and a bound and gagged woman beside him. She cast him a look of scorn, and he realized who it was. He watched in horror as Margaret Houlihan was suddenly dragged to center stage by a soldier. He put his pistol to the back of her head and lowered the hammer. Hawkeye tried to reach her, only to be grabbed and forced into the same position by another soldier. The barrel of some kind of gun pressed against his temple, and he braced himself.

The shots sounded, and he woke.

Now, he was laying still on the bed, still breathing heavy. It was beginning to dawn on him that he wasn't home. This was some foreign place. Somebody else's bedroom. Someone else's home. He didn't belong here. He slid off the bed and stumbled for the door. He had to get out.

His hand closed around the brass doorknob and turned. His eyes widened when the rounded object refused to budge. He began yanking on it, grunting with the effort. Surely he wasn't locked in there? What person would be low enough to do that?

"It's no use. We're stuck in here until they decide otherwise."

He whirled around. Through the darkness of the room, he could just barely make out a figure sitting in a chair. No regular person would be able to identify them purely by sight, but he knew that voice.

"Margaret."

"Hawkeye." Her voice was crisp and orderly, as it had always been. Even from the other side of the room, Hawkeye could feel her inflated sense of authority.

The chair creaked as she stood up. "We've been in here for two days now. Kept track of the meals they were serving us. When I asked the soldier why, he said that it was because it had been determined that you were "unfit to represent".

"Unfit to represent?" he echoed. "What the hell does that mean? Who am I representing?"

He could feel her irritation. "The 2nd Quarter. They can't deliver an unconscious man with a lump on his head and a chip on his shoulder to the capital."

He snorted. "Locking me up in a room can only fix two of those things. Unless, of course, the government has difficulty counting, which is a complete possibility."

"According to them, it will. Their philosophy is that, by locking you and I in a room for three days, we'll somehow become more accustomed to our new life."

He slid against the wall and down into a seated position. "Well, duh. Don't you know that locking me in O.R. is how they got me accustomed to being a surgeon?"

"This isn't the time for jokes, Dr. Pierce."

He rubbed the back of his head, wincing as his fingers passed over the lump. "I came to at some point. Someone gave me something bubbly and warm. Who was it?" He wanted to know if his father had visited him. Or perhaps one of his hospital acquaintances. Maybe even BJ.

"The only other person who's been in here, besides the solider that delivers the supplies."

He felt immense disappointment descend upon him. "You, then."

"Don't sound so unappreciative, Dr. Pierce. If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have recovered so quickly. You had a nasty concussion. That stuff I gave you was Apenaful."

"Cures concussions. Developed about twenty years ago by a neurologist from the 1st Quarter."

"It was mixed with powdered Liralad, which gave it the carbonated feeling."

"A sedative. Why?"

Her shadowy outline shrugged. "Why do you think? You created quite the commotion back at the elections."

"Right, because protesting being ripped away from your family and your lifestyle is inexcusable. Oh, how dare I!"

"You're not the only one who's suffering, doctor. Donald and I were going to be married in a week."

"I never said I was. I had a right to protest, Margaret."

"Not in their eyes."

"Since when have I ever given a damn about what they think?"

"Since they slammed a rifle in the back of your head."

He set his jaw. "They don't have a right," he hissed. "They can't just march into someone's life and rip it apart. They can't force someone to become a leader if they don't want to. I was perfectly fine in the hospital. I'm a surgeon. I've never been anything less or more."

She was quiet for a while. During that time, he stood. He began pacing restlessly, throwing his arms around and mumbling to himself. He could feel her stare. He knew she was watching him; judging him. He really didn't care. It wasn't like her opinion mattered much to him anyway.

"Sometimes you just have to learn to live with it."

He stopped. Her voice was tight again, no longer betraying any of her innermost thoughts and emotions. He could hear the creaking of a floorboard as she moved. He tensed, no longer able to see her in the darkness. He stayed silent until he heard the movement of a chair, signaling that she was seated once more.

He tried to think of an appropriate response. He had learned long ago that it wasn't worth it to stake a fight with Margaret Houlihan. She had a tongue sharper than a snake's tooth and a temper to back it up. She was a NICU nurse at Archmouth General, a job that was one of the toughest and most depressing of them all. Her efficiency and quick-mindedness had saved many lives, but it still made her hard to deal with.

And yet here he was, tasked with taking her as his wife.

Goody goody.

He wasn't sure when or for how long, but he dozed off. Fortunately, his subconscious chose to spare him any more dreams, and he woke with a smile. Daylight was squeezing itself through a narrow slit in the wall, allowing Hawkeye his first full view of the room.

Just like he'd been expecting, it was clearly a room in someone's house. The government had a tendency to force regular civilians to provide accommodations for visiting soldiers or government officials. Two years ago, the Pierces had been chosen to house the representative from the government during his stay in Archmouth during the elections. Even though it had only been for a night, it had felt like an entire lifetime to Hawkeye. The man's ego had been so inflated he was surprised he didn't float away. He'd spent the entire night making political talk and drinking all of the Pierces' wine. In Hawk's eyes, the latter had been the worst crime of all.

Now, it seemed as if the residents of this home had been chosen to accommodate him and Margaret. He felt a twinge of sympathy for them. He at least hoped that they were receiving some sort of compensation, as his father had when the representative had bunked with them.

The room itself was nice. It was filled with various country items and memorabilia. A horseshoe hung on one wall, surrounded by cowboy pictures. Cow pattern wallpaper had been used on the walls, and a dust-covered saddle sat atop a wooden trunk. Curtains with horse and cow imprints hung on the sole window, which itself was boarded up from both sides with heavy metal bars. If Hawkeye had to guess, the government had done that, along with putting a slit in the wall so as to allow some light through. Clearly they were paranoid about anyone being able to get in or out.

Margaret had moved from the chair to the bed, which was made up with another cow print- this one on a quilt. How the resident family managed to afford such things was beyond Hawkeye. Most people in Archmouth were lucky if they could even afford a proper bed, much less fancy quilts and wallpaper.

As he watched her, he noted the innocent look of her as she lay stretched upon the bed. When she slept, all of the rigidity and seriousness about her seemed to fade. She almost looked human.

Almost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~oOoOoOoOoOo~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A loud bang on the door startled Margaret awake. She sat up with a gasp, taking a moment to remember where she was. Hawkeye was on his feet, looking alarmed. He backed away from the door as it opened. She saw the muscles in his shoulders tense as a soldier stepped in.

If the soldier was surprised to see Hawkeye awake and standing, he didn't show it. He practically threw the metal tray on the floor before stepping back into the doorway. With one hand on the knob, he said,

"Eat up. We're coming for you in an hour."

He slammed the door.

"Isn't he a ray of sunshine," Hawkeye commented, bending over to pick up the tray. "Well, what've we got here?" He sifted through the contents of the tray. "An apple, a pack of cheese crackers, a carton of milk, and a slice of bread." He let out an exaggerated groan, squeezing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Oh my God, so much food! I don't know if I can eat it all. Margaret, perhaps you would be so kind as to help me out of this predicament?"

She sighed, rolling her eyes. Back to his usual self, I see. "Just shut up and give me the tray, Pierce."

He hugged the sheet of metal close to his body. "But I like this tray."

"Pierce."

He took an apple and threw it at her. A little squeak escaped her lips, but she managed to catch it. Angry now, she glared at him. "Was that necessary?"

"I've heard that food is the only way to cure hunger, so I'd say yes."

She took a bite from it, channeling her irritation into every movement. "Do you have to quip about everything?"

"A quip a day keeps the psychiatrist away."

She groaned. "I swear, Dr. Pierce, it's hopeless."

He sat down on the bed, the mattress sinking under his weight. He ripped off a chunk of wheat bread and ate it. "You're right. Getting you to take a joke is a lost cause."

"Smartass," she muttered.

He beamed. "Why Margaret, what a kind thing to say! You know, I really think we're warming up to each other."

"Yeah, and pigs can fly."

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. She and Hawkeye split the pack of crackers, while he let her have the milk. After that, he wiped the center of the tray with his shirt until it was spotless. He then gazed at his reflection, occasionally pushing his hair a certain way. His brow was furrowed, as if the task at hand was something of mind-bending proportions.

"What are you doing now?" she asked, afraid of the answer.

"Straightening up. A Pierce must always look his best." He looked at her, flinging his hair to one side with a jerk of his head. "After all, I want to represent our Quarter appropriately."

"Wouldn't it be easier to use a mirror?"

"My dear," he said very matter-of-factly, "this is over here, and that is over there. Why would I waste precious energy to walk over there when I can just stay here? Besides, this tray makes me look younger."

She rolled her eyes. "Just give it up."

"And look like I come from the boonies? Margaret, we're supposed to hide the fact that we come from the bowels of the 2nd Quarter."

"Yes, and you're doing a fine job of it," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She glared pointedly at his hair, which was even messier than it had been before.

"Thank you! I'm glad to know you appreciate my efforts." He flashed her a grin before returning to his makeover.

Done trying to get him to stop acting like a mischievous ten year old, Margaret stood up and walked over to the dresser. Looking at herself, she could definitely see the effects of spending three days locked in a room with Hawkeye Pierce on her face. His vexatious jokes and spontaneous sleep talking had paled her face and put bags under her eyes. Every time she tried to close her eyes at night, a certain doctor would come along and mumble something to wake her up.

She picked up the comb that was on the dresser and ran it through her hair. Almost instantly, the teeth caught on a snarl. Grunting, she tugged at it, wincing as she tore at the strands. The stalwart knot finally broke apart, sending her hand flying through the rest of her hair. She gasped in surprise as it did so, having expected the snarl to put up more of a fight than that. But alas, she carried on, fortunately finding no other barriers to stand in the way of her beauty.

Her gaze flicked to the door as another loud knock came forth.

"Jesus," Hawkeye muttered. "They keep that up and they're gonna break that damn thing."

She shrugged as the door swung open again. She was expecting a soldier, but instead found something completely different.

"Dad!" Hawkeye cried. The surgeon rushed forward, wrapping the first man to enter the room in a strong, loving hug. Anyone could have looked at the two and seen the strength of their relationship.

The second man was of more interest to Margaret than the first. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome, with a military cut and bright brown eyes. He was dressed in a cleanly-cut white uniform, his cap tucked under his arm. His eyes lit up when he saw Margaret; a wide smile stretching across his face.

"Donald!" Margaret let out a high-pitched shriek as she took in Donald Penobscott in the full. Rushing forward, she hugged him, jumping up to make up for their height difference. She pressed her lips against his in an eager kiss, to which he promptly responded.

Hawkeye pulled away from his father. "I can't believe you're here, Dad. How did you get through the soldiers?"

He smiled. "They're allowing one person to visit each of the two candidates. BJ wanted to come, but he let me go in his place."

Disappointment flashed briefly in Hawkeye's eyes. "Oh. I would have liked to see him again, too." His eyes suddenly lit up again. "But I'm glad you're here, Dad. I thought I was never going to see you again."

"Now that's just nonsense, Hawkeye. I know you. The Benjamin Franklin Pierce I call my son would never let some government keep him away from his father. He's too stubborn and resilient."

He grinned. "Stop it, dad. I'm blushing."

"I'm serious," he insisted. "I know that you'll be fine, even though the road ahead will be hard. They'll test you, and test you again. But you're going to make it, Hawkeye. I know you will. Someday, I'll see you on T.V., looking mighty and proud. You're going to change the world, I just know it."

Tears began poking at his eyes. "Dad, I-"

"Shh," he interrupted. "I wasn't finished yet. I don't want you to worry about me, Hawkeye. I'm going to be just fine. Your old pop's still able to take care of himself, even if his bones creak and crack every once in a while."

The junior Pierce sighed, looking away for a few moments. When his gaze returned, he saw that his father was beginning to cry. He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep his own tears from spilling over. "Just promise me one thing, Dad."

"Anything."

His teeth shifted against the rough skin of his inner cheek as he contemplated what he was about to say. Should he say it? What would he think? Would he be mad? Glad? Afraid?

"I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Peg and the kids if something happens to BJ."

For the first time in years, Daniel Pierce looked genuinely confused. "I'm not sure I understand."

"The elections are going to happen again next year. If BJ gets chosen, I want you to promise me that you'll take care of Peg and the kids. He'd never ask you himself. He's too proud."

The elder Pierce studied his son for a few moments. He recalled the previous night's events, and his son's genuine concern for his friend. There was no doubt that BJ Hunnicutt was a family man; to take him away from his family was to take a farmer away from his crops. The very least Daniel could do in his absence was take care of his family.

"Alright, Hawkeye," he said quietly. "I promise."

The grin his son gave him was worth more than a million Credits to him. Hawkeye awarded him one last, quick hug. "Thank you, Dad. I'll sleep better knowing that you're there."

He nodded. "Take care of yourself and Margaret, Hawkeye." He sent a wink his way. "And don't forget to call me when the first grand baby rolls in. I want to be the first in line to meet him or her."

This time, Hawkeye legitimately blushed. "Dad!" he hissed. "Stop it! She's right there, and so is her fiancee!"

"Ex-fiancee," he corrected. "You're her fiancee now."

"Don't remind me."

He laughed and clapped his shoulder. "Easy now, son. She can't be that bad. I'm sure as you spend more time with each other, you'll grow to appreciate each other more."

The candidate laughed icily. "Yeah, and I'm a frog." He shot a look Margaret's way, only to see that she was still locking lips with her ex. "Hey, you two. Save the PDAs for somewhere more private, please."

The two broke apart, with Margaret shooting an annoyed glare Pierce's way. "Please, doctor. I'm trying to have a nice final moment with the man I love. Don't spoil it."

He pointed at himself. "Yeah? Well, according to the government, I'm the one you're supposed to love now. So maybe you should be kissing me instead."

Donald stiffened.

Margaret laid a hand on her former husband-to-be's chest. "Donald, dear, let it be. He's just being his usual cocky self."

The military man's hands balled into fists. "This is the man you're charged to marry?"

"Yes, Donald, but-"

The soldier stalked forward until he was face-to-face with Hawkeye. He grabbed a fistful of his shirt and yanked him up to his tiptoes. Looking straight into his eyes, he said,

"You'd better be good to her, Pierce. If I catch word that you've done anything - anything - to hurt her, I'll smack you so hard you'll fly to the moon." He shook his other fist in the man's face, just to emphasize his point.

Hawkeye swallowed hard. Up close, Donald Penobscott was a lot more intimidating than one might think. "Yes, sir," he said without a hint of mockery.

"Donald, put him down," Margaret scolded. "You're supposed to be a soldier. Act like one, for Christ's sake, and put him down!"

It took him a moment, but finally the bigger man put the smaller one down. He stood breathing down his neck for a few moments before backing away. Turning to Margaret, he said, "You'd better not fall too hard in love with him, Margaret. He's a sneaky one."

She sighed. "Don't you think I already know that? I went to high school with him, Donald. I know exactly what he's like."

He sniffed. "I'm just being careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

"I can take care of myself, Donald. Now shoo. I don't want any more confrontation."

The soldier's muscles were tense. For a few minutes, Daniel wasn't sure if he was going to leave or not. Finally, he submitted. "Goodbye, Margaret. I hope you know how much I love you." He gave her one final kiss before exiting the room.

"Phah!" Hawkeye spat. "What an asshole."

Margaret spun on her heel to face him. She stalked up to him and gave him a hard shove. He yipped as he fell back onto the bed. Daniel scooted out of the way as Margaret charged past, sticking a finger in his son's face.

"Donald's right. You'd better watch yourself, Pierce. I don't have any intent of getting warm and cozy with the likes of you any time soon, so don't count on it!" She gave him one last push before stalking back to her previous position, her back to the two men. Hawkeye exchanged a confused look with his father, who shrugged.

Deciding to be the peacemaker, Daniel Pierce walked over to his future daughter-in-law. Standing at her shoulder, he spoke softly. "Margaret? I'm Daniel Pierce. Hawkeye's father."

She grunted, giving him the smallest of smiles.

He pursed his lips. "Listen. I know that my son can be cocky, devious, and downright irritating. I've seen every side of him. His angry side. His funny side, his scared side." A pause, then, "His caring side."

Margaret looked at him. "I don't mean to imply that he's heartless, Daniel, but he's just not what I'm looking for in a husband. I wanted Donald, and that was taken away from me."

"You can't punish Hawkeye for that. I know that you love Donald, but my son isn't a terrible person. Neither are you. I have faith that the two of you can work things out."

She didn't say anything.

At that moment, a soldier appeared in the doorway. His voice was gruff as he said, "It's time to go. The allotted visiting time is up."

His announcement made Daniel's eyes grow watery once more. The time for final goodbyes. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Think it over, Margaret. He isn't a bad guy. You could use someone in your life like him."

She tensed. He didn't allow her the chance to respond, instead going over to Hawkeye.

He helped his son to his feet and pulled him into a hug. "Stay strong, Hawkeye," he murmured. "Call me often, and never be afraid to say that you are the son of Daniel Pierce. I know you will be great. Just watch yourself, and be strong. You can overcome any challenge they throw at you. Keep your wits about you, and don't ever forget that you're not alone." Even though the young man couldn't see him, he let his gaze slide toward Margaret. "I love you, Benjamin."

"I love you too, Dad." Hawkeye's voice was thick with tears.

The soldier cleared his throat. "Sir."

Daniel pulled away from his son. "Yes, of course. I'm coming." He took one last, long look at his son before turning away. He hoped that Hawkeye hadn't seen the tears that were staining his face. The last thing he needed was to go away worrying about his father's sorrow.

But of course, he had.

As Daniel left with the soldier, Benjamin Franklin Pierce let the tears fall. He shoved a fist in his mouth so as not to alert Margaret. She still had her back to him, and the last thing he wanted was for her to see him crying. He was supposed to be her guardian. He had assured Donald that he would never hurt her. Part of keeping that promise meant never letting her see his weakness.

By the time the soldier returned, he had managed to pull himself together. The soldier informed them that they would be escorted by helicopter to Khuizherton City, where they would be married prior to being escorted to their new quarters in the Black District.

Both Hawkeye and Margaret took deep breaths. This was it. Their new lives were about to begin.

"Join hands," the soldier ordered. "You're supposed to be a couple. Act like it."

Hawkeye opened his mouth to make a stinging remark, but Margaret silenced him with a glare. He set his jaw, frustrated. Here he was, already letting this woman control his actions. Even though he knew she was right to stop him, he didn't like it. Looking the soldier straight in the eye, he took Margaret's hand.

He could've sworn that a smirk worked its way under the soldier's mask. "Much better. Now, follow me, and stick close. The chopper's waiting." Formally, the man spun on his heel and started to walk away.

As the new couple followed him, Hawkeye could have sworn that he felt her hand squeeze, just a little.

And that's it! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. So sorry for the huge wait, but I got busy with life. Hopefully I'll be able to get the next chapter out a bit more quickly next time. Until then,

- xLight360x

(And Happy New Year's, too!)