Title: The Pregnancy of Margaret Houlihan
Chapter: 3
BJ returned to The Swamp a few hours after Father Mulkahy left. Hawkeye, for his part, was sitting in a chair, feet propped up on his trunk, fiddling with an empty martini glass and staring at the ceiling.
"Ready to talk about it now?" BJ asked, pulling his lab coat off and tossing it on his cot.
Hawkeye reached over to the still, grabbed a second glass and tossed it lightly to BJ. "You're gonna need this," he said.
BJ filled both glasses and sat heavily on Hawkeye's bed, across from him. "I'm ready."
"Take a couple drinks first," he said.
BJ raised his glass and took a swig. "How many of these have you had?"
"I lost track."
He grimaced and took another long drink, waiting for Hawkeye to start talking.
"Margaret is pregnant," he said after a minute.
"Well that's-."
"Wonderful," he finished for him. "That's what I said when she told me," he said, "But I'm not sitting alone in The Swamp with a bottle of gin celebrating." Hawkeye crossed his legs and spun his glass in circles by the stem, staring at it. "It's mine."
BJ let out a whistle.
"My sentiments exactly."
"That explains why Radar's rabbit is in Post-op." He set his drink down on Hawkeye's trunk and leaned his elbows on his knees. "And you're sure it's yours?"
He nodded. "It's been a while… a long while since she was on R & R with…"
"Donald."
"Right. Him."
"What are you going to do?"
Hawkeye leaned forward and grabbed the pitcher from the table, held it up and, smirking, gave it a small shake. "Drink."
BJ took it out of his hand lightly. "You know what I mean, Hawk."
"What can I do, Beej? She's married! To somebody else!" He stood and moved toward the window, leaned against the wooden pane and stared out into the compound.
BJ shook his head, "Until Donald finds out."
"Oh, come on. What would you do in her situation?" Hawkeye asked, throwing out an arm and motioning toward Margaret's tent. "Admit that you were… sustained by another man and are now pregnant with his child? Become a divorced, single parent?" Hawkeye turned back toward BJ. "She'd be better off telling him that he's about to be a father."
"I hope you didn't say this to her."
"Of course I did!" He slumped back down in the chair. Seeing BJ's expression, added, "I only said what she's probably thinking."
"Hawk, are you saying this because you want her to choose him or because you're scared of what will happen if she chooses you?"
"Chooses me?" He let out a short laugh. "Right now, the choice is Donald or not-Donald."
"So you don't want to be with her?"
"I don't know what I want, BJ!" He ran his palm down his face and looked up at the ceiling. "This doesn't change how different we are, how much we argue, how delicately balanced our friendship is already."
BJ filled his glass again and handed it back.
"She wants the army. She wants a high-ranking husband, prestige, olive-drab." He spun his dog tags around his neck and took a long sip of his martini. "I'm a draftee-surgeon from Maine that wants nothing more than to leave this war and never look back."
"You haven't said anything about wanting a baby."
"Of course I want kids," he said without hesitation. "I always assumed it would be after the war—I'd be back in Maine… married with an adorable little wife… you know, barefoot and pregnant." He swallowed another drink and added, "her, barefoot and pregnant. Not me."
BJ chuckled. "Have you told her that?"
"One has very little to do with the other, BJ." Hawkeye shifted his weight and crossed his legs at the ankles.
"Don't you think she should know what you want?" He leaned forward, forcing Hawkeye to look him in the eye. "You expect her to make a decision about both your lives with nothing to go on. Be honest, Hawk. It's not the ideal situation, but that doesn't mean there can't be an ideal outcome."
Hawkeye drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, thinking.
"Imagine having to make a decision like this, completely alone, knowing full-well it will completely change the course of your life. Then imagine how much easier it would be knowing someone else would be there with you."
He realized BJ was right; she had to know what he wanted, even if the outcome was the same.
A few days after the rabbit test and the blow up with Pierce, Margaret woke up feeling thoroughly ill. This is it, she thought, undeniable proof. As she dry heaved into her trash, she made the decision. Not only could she not go through this alone, she absolutely would not return back home divorced and pregnant with another man's child. After collecting herself, dabbing at her face with a cold washcloth, she set off to find Radar and ask (nicely) if he would place a call to Donald.
Radar handed the telephone to Major Houlihan and backed away slowly. He wasn't sure what the urgency was (although it seemed to always be emergent where Margaret was involved), but she had threatened him within an inch of his life and he finally gave in.
"Donald!" she shouted into the phone, "Oh, darling, it's so good to hear your voice." There was a few seconds of silence before, "Yes, I know you're busy…"
Radar's eavesdropping took a sudden turn for the worse when the personnel files he was sorting through slipped out of his hand and hit the floor with a loud THUD.
Margaret jumped and whipped around to face him. "Corporal!" she yelled, "Some privacy, please!"
He fumbled with the papers on the floor, gathered them into his arms and crammed them into the filing cabinet.
Margaret turned her back on him once more. "Donald, I have some wonderful news!" She listened for a few seconds before adding, "No, of course you can go first."
Radar tried to close the drawer, but the files were sticking halfway out and it wouldn't latch.
"RADAR!" she howled.
He let out a squeak and slammed the cabinet shut.
"A promotion would be wonderful, I agree," Margaret was saying, "But you shouldn't get so excited about something that hasn't happened yet."
Radar slipped through the door, hovering momentarily. There was a brief silence before the Major said anything again. He peaked through the window of the door, mentally scolding himself for continuing to listen.
"I am very happy for you, Donald, but I need to get off the line." She tapped her fingers against the desk for a few seconds. "No, it was nothing. This news certainly topped what I was going to tell you." She stood, still listening, "We'll talk another time. Goodbye, Donald." Without waiting for a response, she jammed the telephone down in the holster and leaned forward onto the desk with both knuckles and let out a small sound, like a sob.
"Radar?"
He almost hit the ceiling; Hawkeye's voice came out of nowhere. He spun around to face him, almost knocking himself out on a low hanging shelf. "I wasn't eavesdropping, Sir!"
Hawkeye raised his eyebrows. "Eavesdropping on who?"
"Major Houlihan, Sir."
"Radar, quit calling me 'Sir'. What's going on?" He looked over Radar's shoulder through the window. Margaret was still facing away, leaning over the desk.
"I don't know." He took his hat off and wrung it with his hands before replacing it on top of his head. "She sounded excited, said she had some big news to tell Lt. Colonel Penobscott."
Hawkeye waited. "And the big news was…?"
"I don't know, Sir—I mean, Captain." Radar shrugged, "she didn't tell him anything. Hung up and…."
"And…?"
Radar looked around nervously, turning toward the door momentarily to make sure Margaret wasn't about to walk through it. "She sounded like she was crying."
"Crying seems strange for happy news," he said.
"That's what I thought."
"Radar, do you think you could give me a minute alone with Major Houlihan?"
"Sure, Hawkeye. Is there anything I can do?"
"Watch the door for a few minutes," he said. "I doubt she wants anyone else to know she was crying into the telephone."
"Right. I'll be just outside."
Hawkeye pushed open the door and quietly slipped through. Margaret, startled, turned to face him, tears glistening on her cheeks.
"Hi."
"Not now, Hawkeye." She wiped at her eyes with the palms of her hands and made a move to walk past him.
"Margaret, would you just… would you just stop for a minute?" It came out more harshly than he had intended.
"I was just about to tell him," she said, stopping to look at him momentarily. "It would be so easy, but I can't do it. I can't live the rest of my life knowing it's all a big lie." She raised her chin, "So, move out of my way, Captain."
"I want kids," he blurted out.
There was silence for a few beats.
She blinked. "Congratulations."
"Look, the things I said… the other night," he started, "I… this isn't easy for me either. I have ruined your marriage, possibly your life… and I would really really like to stop all the ruining."
"You didn't ruin my marriage," she said. "We did that ourselves."
"Whatever the case, I need you to know that I've always wanted children. Maybe not right at this second, but I always assumed it would be part of my future." He leaned against Radar's desk. "If that time is now, I think I'm okay with that."
A tear rolled down her cheek and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. "Sorry," she said. "I don't think I've cried this much in my whole life."
"Come here," he said, holding out his hands.
She let him wrap his arms around her. He rested his head on hers, rubbing her back gently. They stayed that way until her breathing was even, eyes dry. Hawkeye kissed the top of her head and breathed in the scent of her hair. For the first time, a fleeting thought of a shared life passed through his mind; Margaret waiting for him back home, a house, a dark-haired toddler waddling toward him on shaky legs…. She looked up at him briefly, blue eyes searching his, lips so close. His body was involuntarily responding to her and he couldn't stop himself from leaning in, closing the small gap between their lips, hers soft beneath his own.
He cupped the back of her head and felt her arms tighten around his waist, pulling him closer. It felt so familiar, like the crash of two magnets that were suddenly barreling toward one another with an intensity he'd only felt once before. He let his other hand twist into her blonde hair, feeling the softness beneath his fingertips. Her lips parted slightly, allowing him to deepen the kiss for a moment before…
"Hawk," she breathed, pulling back slightly. "I can't…"
His own breathing was uneven and her words barely registered.
"We can't, I mean."
Hawkeye let out a breath and tried to collect his thoughts. "Can't do what, Margaret?" His fingers were still in her hair, thumb rubbing the side of her face gently. "Because if you're talking about what I think you're talking about… quite frankly, that ship has sailed."
"It's not that I don't want to… because I do," she explained, still wrapped in his arms. "But the two of us are…"
"Different."
She nodded. "Yes. I'll be going back home and you'll be here; I would never ask you to… wait for something that may never work."
He leaned against the desk again, his arms still around her waist. "That's very diplomatic of you, Margaret, but I'm not some virile teenager. I have been known to control myself occasionally."
Margaret snorted.
"No really," he argued, "When pushed, I can deliver!"
"Hawkeye," she ran her hands up his chest and gave his shoulders a squeeze. "I think we're both going to be pushed enough. Let's go easy on ourselves."
He let out a breath of air. "Alright, Major, have it your way." He let her go and sank back onto the desk. "But there's something else I want to ask you."
She raised her eyebrows, eyes wide. "I'm already married…"
He waved his hand in dismissal, "Not that. What about going to my home instead of yours? You could stay with my dad in Maine; save yourself from having to go home… well… you know."
"Divorced and alone?"
"Well, I wasn't going to say it."
"Won't your dad be disappointed?"
"In me?"
"Yes, in you! I'm your superior officer."
"Not to mention married to someone else." He chuckled when she tried to back away, "Sorry! Which part of that is disappointing?"
She rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm.
"Fine, fine! We'll tell him you're a floozy I met a bar; much more believable that way."
She raised a fist to punch him again and he held up both hands in surrender.
"I'm kidding! Look, my dad will be over the moon about a grandchild. He's a big supporter of procreation, taught me everything I know."
"Charming." She stood between his legs, fiddling with his dog tags, thinking. After a minute, she added, "I'll think about it."
"Good."
Suddenly, the door swung open and Radar appeared in the doorframe. If he was surprised to see them standing in such an intimate position, he hid it well.
"Choppers!" he announced before disappearing again.
Hawkeye and Margaret exchanged a look and followed him out of the office, heading toward the helipad.
"We'll continue this discussion later," he said as they rounded the corner and pushed open the outside door.
She nodded, "Fine. To be continued."
12 hours later…
The mess tent was crowded when Hawkeye and BJ finally dragged themselves out of bed. Klinger, dressed in his Sunday finest, slapped a ladleful of grits and something brown and firm in color (BJ's best guess was sausage, Hawkeye thought it resembled part of a jeep tire) onto their plates and shooed them along. They moved toward the coffee carafe.
"Coffee?" BJ asked groggily.
"Where?" Hawkeye responded, looking around.
"Ha. Ha." He rolled his eyes and filled his own mug with the watery coffee-like substance. The two men made their way to an open table and sat down. "You seem to be feeling better," BJ commented. "Did you talk to her?"
"There were some words spoken," Hawkeye replied. "I definitely don't feel great about it yet, but at least we're in forward motion."
"So…"
"So…?"
"Are you…?"
"No."
"No?"
"No." Hawkeye tried to chew the jeep-tire-sausage without success. "She doesn't want to wait around for something that might not work." He stabbed at the meat with his fork and bent one of the tongs. "Who knows when I'll get out of this place."
"And you're fine with that?" BJ swallowed a bite of grits and grimaced.
Hawkeye pushed his plate forward and took a drink of his coffee. "I'm not gonna lie, sometimes there are times that I think we can make it work. But, there are a whole lot of times that argue the other side of the coin."
"So, you're leaving it as…"
"Looks like I'm about to be a father." He grinned
BJ clapped him on the back, "Congratulations."
"What are we celebrating, boys?" Colonel Potter asked as he set his tray down and sat down across from Hawkeye.
"BJ just named me employee of the month," he replied without a second thought.
"He gets a little plaque to hang above his bed and a free parking spot right outside the OR," BJ added.
"If only I had my own army jeep to park there."
"That's for employee of the year, Hawk."
"Good morning, Margaret! Come sit here and save me from these two," Colonel Potter laughed. He looked at her as she sat down and added, "My, you look like a week-old banana. Not feeling well?"
Margaret sat down next to Hawkeye and took a sip of water, shaking her head. "I think it's the sausage."
"If you want to call it that," Hawkeye mumbled.
"Oh Hog Wash," Potter said, sawing at his sausage and taking a big bite, "This is just like how Mrs. Potter makes it."
"If that is true, Colonel, it is a wonder you are still alive," said Charles, sitting down next to him. "And you do look a little peaked, Margaret."
She rolled her eyes, "Can someone change the subject, please?"
"Just ignore them, Major," Hawkeye said with a smile, "They have no idea how to treat a lady."
"You look absolutely stunning this morning, Margaret," BJ added.
"One might say you're even glowing."
She turned sharply and elbowed Hawkeye in the rib cage. He made a loud 'OOMPH' sound and she made a face and rubbed her right side.
"Alright, alright," Potter said, "Try to get along."
Hawkeye looked at Margaret and furrowed his brow.
Recovered, she drank the last of her water. Seeing his face, she said, "Turned wrong."
"You sure?"
"Positive."
"Perhaps you should turn more slowly and hit harder, Margaret," Charles said. "Aim for the spleen. If you're lucky, it might rupture."
"That's good advice," she said with a smirk. Excusing herself to do rounds, she slowly rose from the table and left the mess hall.
BJ and Hawkeye exchanged a look, shrugged, and watched her go.
Note: Thank you for the kind words. One more chapter to go & I am getting cold feet. Quite frankly, I hate change. Wouldn't it be lovely if these two could walk hand-in-hand into the sunset? See you next time...