AN: Hello lovely readers. I'll be moving to updating this every two weeks from now on (and possibly every three weeks if I need to, but hopefully I won't). I've had less writing time lately, and writing out phase two of this story is taking a little longer than I'd like. Don't worry though, I'm not abandoning it.
Margaret woke up and groaned. She'd been feeling constantly queasy for weeks now and it was showing no sign of letting up. Who's idea was this getting pregnant business anyway? Oh yeah, nobody's. That in itself was at the top of the list of ways her body had betrayed her and was followed by a litany of other complaints. Some days she had a brief window in the afternoon of feeling a little better, but often not at all. Her body so far hadn't even allowed her the satisfaction of throwing up.
Daniel had been trying to help by making her different things for breakfast each morning, but each time they'd been rejected. She felt guilty and completely useless. To her there was nothing worse than not even being able to try to pull her own weight.
This morning she hadn't even bothered trying to get out of bed. She'd slipped from her army regulation habit getting up for a 5am breakfast to wallowing around in bed at 8am feeling sorry for herself. She didn't even have the energy to be disgusted with herself.
It's no surprise when she hears a gentle knock on her door. He was probably wondering where she was. She raises her bleary, tousled head just as Daniel tentatively opens her door.
His face is wrinkled in concern. "You okay, Margaret?"
"Ohhhh I feel terrible," she groans, "but that's nothing new."
" That's no good. I've brought you a cup of tea just in case you feel like drinking anything. We don't want dehydration making you feel even worse."
He was right, she knew. She was going to have to make an effort.
"Thank you," she grinds out whilst gulping down hard on a wave of nausea. She attempts to sit up if only to make a show of attempting the tea. It was strange having someone dote upon her like this. Here was this kind, gentle man, and all she could feel was guilt.
Her earliest memory was one of her fending for herself. Daniel, on the other hand, seemed to genuinely enjoy having someone to look after. After a lifetime of forced self sufficiency, she was finding this difficult to adjust to.
"I should get out of bed."
"Nonsense. You of all people have earned the right to rest. Listen to your body, try to let it have what it needs. The world's not going anywhere."
She nods curtly, feeling her jaw clench.
Clearly sensing her mood Daniel decides to take his leave, "Sing out if you need anything," he says softly as he heads for the door.
She bids him thanks, sighing in relief as her door clicks shut.
It's not that she doesn't appreciate what he's doing for her, but she can't handle company, not now.
Her stomach rolls at the smell of the tea when she picks it up. She takes a deep breath, bracing herself before taking a small mouthful of the sweet liquid. She gulps it down before she can change her mind. It tastes wrong, all wrong, but so has everything she's eaten in the last week. Margaret holds herself very still, willing her body to accept
She bolts for the door, stumbling up the short, hallway to the bathroom as it all comes back up, lurching herself into position just in time. She wipes her mouth, flopping into a sitting position on the floor.
Today was not her day.
Daniel's busy puttering around in the kitchen when he hears Margaret run to the bathroom. He starts moving to go and offer her help but stops, thinking better of it. She doesn't seem to want it at the moment. He'd been pleasantly surprised at how quickly she'd started to open up upon her arrival. They'd spoken a few times about her father, a little about camp and what she missed most about it, and then he'd look on slightly amused as she'd skirted around the topic of Hawkeye with a startled expression and wide eyes. How they'd ended up here he'd love to know. He could probably just write to Hawk and ask him, but he imagined the response he got back would depend heavily on what mood he was in. It was obvious from Hawk's first letter home after the fact that that he cared about her. Hell, looking back there'd been hints a long time before that, but it had always been hard to tell whether or not his son had been joking. It looked like not.
The harder things became for Margaret, however, the more she'd retreated back into herself, and the more evident her discomfort at having someone do things for her became. It was becoming clearer every day that he and her parents probably wouldn't see eye to eye on much. Independence was one thing, but this felt like something more than that. He supposed all he could do was sit back quietly and make sure she was looking after herself. He was also going to have an undoubtedly uncomfortable discussion about her marital status.
An old friend of his had had a quiet word with him while he was out on his rounds yesterday, saying that there'd been all kinds of rumours going around, ranging from some that hit pretty close to the truth of the matter to the more ridiculous ones that she was his mistress. Small town gossips, big gossips. There wasn't always a whole lot else to do.
He'd been doing some thinking and come up with a plan that might rectify the situation, but he wasn't quite sure how she was going to take it. He was going to offer her his wife's rings. That way she at least had the option to say was Hawkeye's wife or somesuch. It was up to her, but he wanted to try and alleviate at least some of the problems this limbo she'd been left in.
He doesn't see her again until a couple of hours later when she gingerly makes her way downstairs.
"I've just finished making lunch, would you like some?"
"I'd guess I'd better at least try."
He smiles, "Good girl. Will you sit with me while you eat? There's something I'd like to talk to you about."
She looks at him, puzzled, trepidatious.
"It's okay, it's nothing bad. Well, nothing too bad. It was brought to my attention yesterday that the town gossips have been getting a bit carried away talking about you and who you might be. Some of the more idiotic among them have even suggested that you're my mistress."
Margaret opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again when no sound comes out.
"Now this isn't the perfect solution," he says, drawing out an old, ring box from the pocket of his pants, "but I was wondering whether you'd like to wear my wife's wedding and engagement ring. That way you'd be able to deflate their gossipy bubbles and tell them whatever you want."
"I-I can't-"
"It's okay, you can, but you don't have to if you don't want to."
Very tentatively, her eyes meet his. She looks almost pained. "I'd appreciate that, thank you."
Daniel hands them over to her. "I have a sneaking suspicion these might have ended up yours anyway, just under slightly different circumstances."
Margaret scoffs, "Not if I hadn't ended up pregnant."
"Oh I don't know, seems to me there's a little more cooking between you two than just a baby."
Margaret's incredulous. "Us? Married? We're about as far from ideal as you can get!"
"Just the hunch of an old man," he says, face brimming with mischief. "You know, in some ways you remind me a lot of him. Strong, passionate stubborn, pigheaded, kind, defensive, skilled at pretending you're not vulnerable. I think you two could make a go of it if you wanted to."
"If I wanted to?"
"You, as in, both of you."
Margaret pauses, staring at him as she tries to figure out how to respond, before she finally exclaims, "I don't believe you. Besides, he hasn't even written to me yet!"
"Oh give it time, he will."
"How can you be so sure?"
He doesn't answer, instead smiling before tucking into his sandwich, feeling her narrowed eyes on him.
She mutters something that sounds suspiciously like "Pierces…" before taking a bite of her own.
They eat lunch in a semi comfortable silence before Margaret eventually excuses herself, heading back upstairs with a glass of water and Daniel makes short work of clearing the table.
He's looking forward to her starting to feel more comfortable again, but she took the ring discussion far better than he'd been anticipating. Daniel also notes with amusement how readily she'd risen to the occasion of a good tease.
He'd definitely be filing that knowledge away for future use.