First of all, I apologise for what I think is going to wind up being a far-too-long AN. Secondly, I hope that some of you will be pleased to know that this story is back on track! I know almost exactly how the rest will play out, and I reckon I can probably get it all written pretty quickly. So yay! The reason for the return of inspiration is partly from re-re-re-etc-watching MASH, but mostly, I think, the consequence of two wonderful weeks of work experience in hospitals in India. I got to see a lot of surgeries, and even assisted with one (not bad for a girl still in school!) and was, frankly, amazed at how many of the surgical tools and procedures I recognised just from watching MASH! Pretty astonishing, huh? I actually spent a couple of days in a hospital that reminded me a bit of a MASH unit. I only ever saw one doctor the entire time I was there (the director) who seemed to be responsible for everything, and he spent the whole of every afternoon just switching between two interconnecting OTs doing one surgery after another. The conditions didn't seem to be that dissimilar either, barring explosives etc. The whole thing was fascinating!

To finish up with something a little more relevant, I sorta want to apologise for this chapter and the next one, when I put it up. I feel that both are too much like filler chapters, with not enough action, and I'm sure at least one of them is unnecessary. Trouble is, I have no idea which, so you get both anyway! Now that I've done rambling, I hope you enjoy!

Margaret slept terribly that night. While she had managed to half convince herself that Hawkeye would forgive her, and hopefully pretty soon, as Colonel Potter had insisted, she still had the bigger problem of figuring out what they would do now. To an extent, what she'd said to Hawkeye before had been true. So much of their relationship had been built around their baby, she had no idea how they'd function without...'it', for lack of a better term. Then of course there was the fact that she still needed to deal with what had happened, but she was certain that she would be able to just as soon as she had Hawkeye with her again.

So that was why, despite spending half the night preparing herself for that very scenario, she was surprised when morning rolled around and Hawkeye didn't show up. She didn't want to completely give up hope yet, so she tried not to assume the worst. He was probably just sleeping in, or he was working, or…something. When lunch was served and he still didn't appear, she still managed to write it off. Maybe BJ had gotten a bad letter from home, or maybe Hawkeye was too depressed about everything that had happened to really talk to her yet. But when she hadn't seen him by the time she was finishing dinner, she began to wonder if maybe he wasn't going to come at all.

She swallowed. It was unsurprising, really. She'd brought this on herself, after all. He was probably still upset about their earlier argument. Or too proud to make up. She was forced to admit the possibility that her words had struck a chord with him…that maybe having thought about it, he agreed. But…no. No. She didn't accept that, and, besides, there was no point worrying about it until she knew for certain, either way. She swallowed again. There was no point crying over it, until she had proof. In fact, she was Margaret Houlihan. She wasn't going to cry at all. She took a deep breath, trying to cement that thought in her mind before attempting sleep. She wasn't going to cry.

"D'you think one day counts as giving her space?" Hawkeye asked BJ over breakfast the next day. BJ glanced up from his coffee as he considered how best to answer.

"I…yes. Probably. Why, you thinking of talking to her?" He tried to keep his tone casual, rather than revealing the hope bubbling up within him. Hawkeye just shrugged.

"Dunno. Maybe." He replied, turning his attention back to his tray.

"Hawk…" BJ began, and then trailed off, having no particular idea how best to persuade his ever-stubborn friend.

"Eugh, how about this…what, is it meant to be bacon?" BJ sighed. Apparently, that was the subject over.

Hawkeye had pretty much convinced himself that it was still too early to turn up in post-op. He was desperate to fix this…whatever 'this' was. But, if he was honest with himself, he was too much of a coward. Pretty much the whole camp had spoken to him in the last couple of days, passing on their condolences and assuring him that Margaret hadn't meant what she'd said…but what if she did? Or what if she was still mad, or upset, or whatever emotion was supposed to be the cause of the argument? Hawkeye didn't think he could hear it again

That was why it was so especially odd when he found himself just outside the door to post-op, staring in through the window at Margaret. She looked…better, he decided. Healthier. She was recovering very, very well, he'd been told. Admittedly, she was sleeping now, so it was hard to get a clear idea, but…yes. Definitely better. So it wouldn't be so hard just to push open the door, would it? And, surely, it couldn't be too difficult to walk in, kneel at Margaret's bedside and declare his undying devotion to her? So what if there was a chance she meant what she said? There was also a chance that she didn't, right? Or wrong. His shoulders slumped. He groaned, leaning his head against the small window in the door.

"This shouldn't be so complicated…" he muttered, eyes falling closed. He opened them a few moments later to find another pair staring back at him from across the room. Margaret was awake. It should have been the perfect moment to follow through with his plan. But he froze. He couldn't read the expression on her face. Was she…hopeful? Or maybe that was just a manifestation of his own wishful thinking. Irritated? Angry? Apathetic? He couldn't tell from this distance, and right now he didn't trust himself to judge it anyway.

It came as a surprise to Margaret, too, when she woke to see Hawkeye on the other side of the door, eyes shut. She allowed herself a small indulgent smile. She hadn't seen him in so long – too long – and she took a moment to just...enjoy him. And then his eyes opened, and they were so…pained, the smile fell from her lips. She'd hurt him. Well, it wasn't entirely her fault, she supposed, but she was still overcome with a desire to hold him and make it better. She held his gaze, trying to convey everything she was feeling with one look: primarily, her desire for him to just come to her.

Come on, Hawkeye! She thought. Please, please, get the message, and come on!

But he didn't. He stayed where he was, and she stayed where she was. And they both looked, unblinkingly, at each other. Her hope diminished with each passing second. And then she saw him raise his hand, reach for the handle, start to push…!

"Major Houlihan?"

He had two choices: go in, or leave. And seeing as how he wasn't making any progress with the going in option, it was only fair to both of them to leave. And yet! And yet… He couldn't.

To Hell with it! He finally decided, reaching for the door. But before he could advance further than that first step, a nurse approached Margaret's bed. Lunch, maybe, or midday medication. Something like that, anyway. Regardless, the moment was gone. His shoulders once again slumped, and he tore himself away.

It had been a simple question, but reasonable. Just an enquiry into her general well being – were the pain killers working well enough? And the nurse was just doing her duty, after all. At any time, Margaret would have been proud that her staff were doing such a thorough a job. But when the nurse had moved on to the next patient, and Margaret had the chance to look back at the door, Hawkeye was gone.

It wasn't really a surprise, she told herself. Frankly, she was amazed he'd come as far as he'd had, after what happened last time….but…God, why couldn't he just come back?

From a hidden corner, Radar watched the whole exchange. When he'd seen Hawkeye headed for the post-op, he'd followed. Spying was wrong, his ma had always said, but…well, since he wasn't a cat, a bit of curiosity probably wouldn't do him any harm. He'd been so sure that this would be the big reunion, and he didn't want to miss it. And then Hawkeye stayed outside. Come on, come on! Radar silently encouraged. It was obvious even from the distance he was at that Margaret was pleased to see Hawkeye, yet the man didn't go in. And he kept not going in right up until he left. A moment of realisation swept through Radar: they could all stay as optimistic as they liked, but their favourite doctor and nurse weren't necessarily going to get their happy-ever-after. He suddenly felt a little older and wiser. Some things just weren't meant to be.

Again, I sincerely apologise for going on so much at the start!