Rocks thrown into the water ripple in small waves at first, but then turn larger and larger, until they encompass an area of meaning, an area in which you could never escape if you were not fast enough. But once empowered by that ripple, the problem could have even surpassed anything small that you could solve, but cocooned a power in which they was no turning back.

For Margaret, there was never any turning back anymore. After the turmoil and chaos that ensued after that fateful bus ride from Inchon and the war and horrendous events that had preceded behind it, there was no way that the ripple in the waters would be small for her anymore. She was engulfed in a large ripple that would stay with her for the rest of her life, something that would haunt her in nightmares and take apart her life's new dreams.

It had been some time since the war had ended, almost two years at that point. Already, since setting her foot on American soil, the first time since 1949, Margaret had been all over the place, traveling from one hospital to another and working as if she was in Korea once more. Her father had sent her from one place to another afterward for administrative work, when the work was too much for her, hoping that she would settle down and stay in the Army. The latter, however, was not part of Margaret's plans. Tired of the tugging and pulling, she pushed for a discharge, one that had been put in front of her since the Korean War ended. Because of her service of over ten years, the Army debated on her fate for over a year as she worked behind a desk while other nurses played, perhaps looking back to when she was accused of murdering a nurse, before releasing her to a civilian life.

In those two years, trying to get out of the Army and bouncing from one place to another, Margaret had kept in touch with everything from the 4077th. Sure, there was a reunion of a few people here and there, but nothing on a grand scale like what was talked about. Letters, phone calls and perhaps visits highlighted her days when she was working, brightened her life especially, and even took the monotony out, when she thought that all hope was lost, but only one person did not reach out to many people, the one person she knew she had to look for.

Hawkeye Pierce, since the bus ride back from Inchon, was a changed man. Considered crazy, locked away and even set loose by Sidney Freedman, Hawkeye was uneasily becoming a man prone to breaking down. As the war was coming to a close, he served on without comment, without wavering, but the bus ride had taken a toll on him. Hiding himself, isolating much like Father Mulcahy did after his hearing was lost, Hawkeye chose to keep close to the hometown he talked about often when in Korea, dreamed about going back to. He didn't call too many people, was not one to write notes to, and kept to himself. He worked with the people he grew up with and did not seem to care about those he had worked with while away from that home.

BJ seemed to be the only person who knew about Hawkeye's mind frame and what might be going on. When Margaret had called him, maybe a year after they left Korea, he said nothing and was silent. When Margaret pressed on, receiving no answer and giving up on any answers, BJ spoke before she hung up. It was not a response that Margaret expected either.

"I'm not supposed to be saying this, but I will for you, Margaret," BJ began slowly, making Margaret's heart sink. "Hawkeye hasn't been adjusting to civilian life has much as he hoped to, even if it's been a while. We're doing ok, but he's…different. He's been doing somewhat reasonable so far and I just talked with him the other day, but he hasn't said much concerning going home or what's been going on. He's hiding something."

Margaret expected worse, but thought that whatever BJ said could be fixed. She could go over to wherever Hawkeye was, take up his offer of information, and find out the truth. After all, she deserved that after all that time. She wanted to know what Hawkeye had done to save her and the camp so long ago, but the war seemed to have caught up to all of them. Adjusting was ideal surely, but time healed all wounded.

Or so she thought.

"Think anyone can visit him?" Margaret asked, putting her toe in some water that would ripple outward, that circle that would surround her and perhaps another.

"I wouldn't advise it, but I've seen him since we left Korea," BJ replied, but he was somehow skeptical as to Margaret's intentions, whether they were for friendly concern or for more private reasons. "Like I said, he's not doing badly, but I would always wait to see him. Try contacting him and seeing if he would come out of his hiding places. Ask him out for a drink. I did. Little good it did him though."

BJ laughed at some memory from long ago, Margaret chuckling along with him, as if knowing what he was talking about. At least outwardly, BJ was practically recovered from most of the ordeals from overseas (even from being accused of murder along with her), but Margaret could not tell. She could not tell what was going on anymore, especially since she was always in the dark. She was without a clue as to who and what had happened in that place so long ago that she had nearly forgotten what it was like to be a prisoner and accused when you were innocent. Yes, it was good to have that, but the uncertainly still plagued her. She needed her search to end.

With the suggestion from BJ in mind though, Margaret made her next call as soon as she disconnected with the blonde surgeon. After waiting patiently for twenty minutes while operator after operator dispatched her call to the other side of the country (and to one town without much civilization), she finally reached the end of the line. Unfortunately for her though, she had also reached Hawkeye's father, who sounded so much like his son that she almost called him by the wrong name. Immediately after identifying himself as Pierce Senior though, Margaret talked amicably with Daniel Pierce for a few minutes when she realized what had happened, telling him who she was and expressing some concern over Hawkeye. When she received no more intimate information from him as well except that Hawkeye was "the usual" sulking self, she asked that Hawkeye call her back, giving him a number to reach her at. She warned that it might change soon, but that she'd call when it did.

There had been no answering calls. Hawkeye was as silent as a grave.

For over a year after that call, Margaret peppered Crabapple Cove with her calls occasionally when she moved, always getting Daniel Pierce on the other end. She asked the same questions gently, never seeming like she was stalking Hawkeye and always expressing her care and concern, and let go of the call when nothing came of it. She heard Hawkeye in the background a few times, but always just coming back from working. She did not want to seem eager then too, only saying that she'll try again later, when he was more refreshed and not tired of seeing his patents all day.

Later, to Margaret's mind of course, would have been months, days in which filled her life with work and a shadow in her mind, one that made her think. In those months though, she thought long and hard about her feelings for Hawkeye. Especially when she was eying her discharge with some happiness was she always thinking of that dark-haired surgeon who always shouted out a joke or two, complaining about food and regulations and even performing what was considered a miracle. She thought back to when she was with others, Frank Burns and Donald Penobscott above all, and snorted sarcastically as she did, mocking herself for putting her life in their hands. Even without Hawkeye's commitment issues, there was a chance that they could have a shot on what seemed to be a growing flame inside each of them. That was better than a married weasel and a cheating ex-husband.

And that kiss they gave each other before leaving Korea…

Finally, after being discharged from the Army by September of 1954, Margaret had enough. Living near Colonel and Mrs. Potter at the time, visiting them and hoping for something better than a mundane existence, she planned. With the little money left to her from the Army and from her father, the latter displeased with her decision and almost disowning her, she schemed on how to get back into Hawkeye's life and to play upon the offer he had set for her, one she promised herself would be easy to keep.

Oh, but it was tough though. With little money to pay the bills and no steady job now that nursing was somewhat of a strain and a reminder of death, Margaret wormed her way into places to make more money without losing her dignity. Waitressing became a quick favorite after driving taxis, earning her more money as she also nursed her pride and a career that went up in smoke after a war destroyed it. It took some months, but towards Memorial Day of 1955, when she declined an offer from the Potters to a BBQ at their place (with the two suspecting she had something up her sleeve), she put her plan into action.

It was a secret nobody knew, not even Colonel Potter or BJ. Margaret inwardly rejoiced about it as she packed her things when all celebrated another year when summer began in sunshine and love, readying herself for a trip of a lifetime, something she wouldn't have dared to have done before the war. Before then, she was just another nurse being passed around from one general to the next, when she earned her nickname of "Hot Lips" Houlihan. Now, she was a new woman, a changed woman, that needed to find her flame and either extinguish it or let it swallow her up.

In the dead of night, when the train was leaving the night before Memorial Day was to begin (Sundays being the best nights to leave, especially after all had gone to church), Margaret bought her ticket north and hopped onboard, imagining all the way what she would say to Hawkeye when she reached his home. She would first demand what had happened when Major Floyd held her hostage, but that was to be expected for later. It was too rude, she realized. A simple greeting perhaps, but maybe she would ask how he was doing. After all, it did seem courteous, right?

I don't know what to say!

Margaret panicked for the whole trip north with this one thought, bordering on paranoia and nervousness as she debated what to say to Hawkeye when she saw him, something unlike the old woman she was in and before Korea. By the time the train reached Portland over twelve hours later, some miles from Crabapple Cove and where she was getting off, she decided on nothing yet except a greeting and a smile. And she had a small distance to go before reaching his home, wherever it was, so there was time yet to think of something more to say.

And there was another problem. After getting off in Portland and then hitchhiking a ride in a taxi to Crabapple Cove, Margaret didn't know where to go. She thought of asking the driver, but he didn't know what she was talking about and only knew how to get into Crabapple Cove. He only took her to the town lines, received his payment from Margaret and left quickly for another fare. Behind him stood the former head nurse from Korea, who could not decide which direction to go in. Behind her were woods, where the driver headed off to, but before her was a small town near the ocean with few roads and fewer residents.

Margaret thought of asking someone for help, but declined the staring and curious eyes when a taxi pulled up the curb to where she was. As she got in, the driver smiled, a genuine one that she had not seen in years, and took her bag. Asking where she needed to go, Margaret explained that she knew of a person in town, but did not know where he was. She gave Hawkeye's full name, his occupation and that she had been in Korea with him.

"Oh, the womanizer?" The driver exclaimed gleefully as he drove on in another direction, down towards the waters for about a mile. "He's been a recluse since he came back, quiet even. Why would you want to visit a guy like that?"

"For sentimental reasons, I guess" Margaret responded, not willing to give away her secret just yet. "How far is it?"

The driver shrugged his shoulders with indifference at her reply as he neared the home down the road, only a little more than a mile away from the town lines, pointing it out to Margaret as he pulled into a long, dirt road driveway. "Here we are, Miss."

Margaret got out immediately, paying the driver and tugging at her shirt collar as she took her luggage. It was a cool summer day for a town in Maine like this for Memorial Day surely, but it shouldn't have been enough to cause her to sweat. She was nervous, but it did not stop her from walking up the rest of the dirt driveway, up the stairs to the old, creaking porch and knocking loudly. The house itself was huge and she was sure that nobody would hear her knock, so she tried again.

There was no answer. Margaret was disappointed to have wasted so much money and time on a trip that served nothing but her curiosity. Saddened by the loss, she turned to leave, willing to walk into town to flag another driver down and go back to Portland. What she did not expect, though, was the door opening behind her as she walked down the stairs and her name being called so gently, so softly even, that she almost could not hear the voice.

When she turned to the voice, Margaret saw Hawkeye in the entranceway, holding open the door. Looking older than she remembered him, she studied the light wrinkles on his face, the black hair that had turned whiter than when the war had ended and even the lack of uniform that she remembered him in. Hawkeye in a civilian world was almost unheard of for Margaret and it made her jump, but not enough for him to notice.

Or did he?

"Oh, Hawkeye!" Margaret ran, dropping her luggage, and lunged into Hawkeye's open arms. "You said to look you up –"

Hawkeye interrupted Margaret with the light touch of his pointing finger to her mouth. Then, he gave her a quick kiss, righting her and releasing her from his arms.

"What took you so long?" Hawkeye only asked as Margaret straightened herself out without assistance, embarrassed that he saw her so excited and eager to see him, of all people.

"Oh, this and that," Margaret replied, not willing to give up anything yet, but more intent on looking into those blue eyes and asking the same question she had asked him so long ago. She needed to ask Hawkeye if he loved her (after all the stories she needed to hear), but then was not the time to inquire about something as serious as love.

Well, to Hawkeye, it was serious anyway.

"Same here."

"I missed you, Hawkeye. I really did."

"I did too."

Margaret didn't know what to say afterward, so tongue-tied she was. She said nothing more after admitting to missing him, putting her hands behind her back and playing shy and hard to get. However, she knew this did not work well with Hawkeye, so she kept to herself, waiting for Hawkeye to make the next move. The surgeon said nothing in return as well, seeing Margaret so happy to be with him in his hometown (and also noticing that she did not have an idea on what to do next), but offered his arm instead, wanting to lead her back to the house he grew up in.

It took all of Margaret's strength in her mind to take that arm, so poised as she was to leave. As Hawkeye also picked up her luggage where she dropped it, they went inside together, quiet as the house settled into another holiday. They heard voices on the other side of the house, most likely outside in the sunshine, but Hawkeye paid them no heed. Instead, he situated Margaret in the living room, sitting next to her as he paid her bag on the floor.

"So, tell me everything," he started awkwardly, not knowing what else to ask the women he had dreamed about in Korea.

Margaret said nothing, losing herself again in the blue pool of Hawkeye's eyes. Then, pulling out of there, she sighed with little frustration, but more with longing. Imagines floated in her mind about her incarceration demanded by Major Floyd the murderer (who was hailed as a war hero, if she remembered right), being a prisoner without any faith or hope and wishing upon a star that someone would rescue her, a princess in the tower. Then, she held her own, being the woman that her father was sure to be proud of, and smiled broadly at Hawkeye.

"No, why don't you start?" she only said, keeping her smile so unadulterated that Hawkeye had to grin with her. "I want to know everything. Tell me about Tokyo."

Hawkeye had a clue as to what Margaret was talking about, but was caught between her and the family party outside. He yearned to bring out outside with the family, to introduce her finally, but was reluctant to when he heard her request. He promised her that he would tell her about the search for justice, when in the end there was barely any, and thought about how much peace it would give Margaret, who had given up much of her life to nothing but regulations. Recounting the murder, the body's discovery and then her arrest, he started to find words that he thought could not have come about again, especially after a war so crazy and senseless, and gave Margaret a picture of the old Hawkeye Pierce that had been missing for such a long time.

The stone had been cast into the water now. The ripple had covered them both. It was time to spread their wings and fly.

Continuing to smile, Hawkeye began in the boldest manner Margaret had heard from him in a long time. "Well, once upon a time, there was once an Army major who liked to kick everyone's behind, but was soon to have hers brought back to her in the worst way possible…"

It's been almost three years since I started this story. I never thought that I was going to finish it up, but I did. I know it wasn't much of a story, especially with the whole murderer and all (I wasn't thinking complex or anything), but I am hoping that you all enjoyed it. Now, onward with new stories, especially for this board! I'll try to post more often in the future, even with work and school, but I cannot promise anything. I will promise to try and finish things up when I can though. And as readers, I do want to thank you for your patience and understanding. :)

Lastly, I also want to thank everyone who had stuck with me and this story for so long (you know who you are. I won't name anyone) and the silent readers that made my traffic so high with this story. Thank you for a journey I never thought to end and end so far away from the beginning. Have a great holiday season!